Sarah vs Green Bay
by Moe32
Summary: Chuck and Sarah are confronted with some ghosts of Sarah's past.
1. Chapter 1

"So, the offer's open, if you want to come," Chuck said, leaning in the window as he closed the door to Sarah's car.

"Sure, it sounds like fun . . . and it will be good for the cover," Sarah answered, with a small smile.

"Are you sure?" Chuck sounded a little surprised. "It'll probably be pretty lame. I think it will just be a couple of Awesome's friends, and they're just a bunch of meatheads whose idea of a having a good time is giving me a noogie. Plus, we are talking about the most important day of the year for the meathead population. The amount of testosterone in the room might be a little overwhelming."

"I'm pretty sure I can handle myself around a little testosterone," Sarah said, with a little condescension in her voice. "Besides, its un-American to miss the Superbowl. I'll be over at three o'clock."

* * *

By two-thirty, Chuck was sorry he had even invited Sarah over. Six of Awesome's friends had arrived with two cases of cheap beer and five-dozen Buffalo wings, and immediately took over the living room, tossing a football and diving into the cheese plate Ellie had laid out. Chuck saw Ellie angrily throw the wings onto a plate, and then storm back into the kitchen to finish up the appetizers she had been working on all morning. Chuck tried to retreat into the kitchen as well, but instead he found himself trapped in the corner by a football flying in between Mike and Chris, two of Awesome's college buddies.

"Hey, Chuckles, heard you finally got yourself a girlfriend," Chris said, tossing the football to Mike, barely missing the lamp by the couch.

"Yup," Chuck answered, distractedly trying to right the wobbling lampshade.

"I don't believe it. Where did you find her, a Nerd Convention?" Mike asked with a mean laugh. Chuck wasn't a fan of any of Awesome's friends, but most of them were pretty harmless. Mike, on the other hand, seemed like he actually took joy out of belittling Chuck.

"Yeah, we have those every year. We sit around and talk to each other in binary code," Chuck responded, the contempt dripping from his voice.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Mike said, tossing the ball to Chris. "Can't wait to see her. I'm sure she's a real looker. She's going to watch the game with us, right? Or are you two lovebirds just going to play World of Warcraft all night?"

The doorbell rang at that moment, and Chuck decided to just ignore Mike's question. He slipped past the flying football, and opened the door.

Even though they had known each other for months, he was still blown away by the sight of her sometimes. She was dressed in just jeans and an emerald green t-shirt, but she looked stunning. Chuck couldn't help but smile as he imagined what the expression on Mike's face must be.

"Hi sweetie!" Sarah gave him a quick kiss, selling their relationship to everyone in the room. "I brought some dessert, where should I put it?" She looked around at the already-chaotic scene, then gave Chuck a small nod, showing her agreement that, yes, Awesome's friends were a little less than awesome.

* * *

Chuck had to admit that he enjoyed watching the shock on the guys' faces when they met Sarah. These were the guys who had mercilessly teased him for the last three years, always acting like they were still the big men on campus, and Chuck was their annoying little brother. Now they were falling all over themselves in front of Sarah, and for the first time Chuck felt a little admiration from them. When Sarah brought the dessert into the kitchen, Chuck felt a slap on his back that nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"I didn't think you had it in you, Chuckles," Mike said, his eyes following Sarah. "Maybe I need to head to one of those Nerd Conventions."

"I'll send you a brochure."

* * *

Chuck brought in the chips and dip, and found the guys already spread out on the couch and all of the chairs. Finding himself a large pillow from the couch, he tossed it onto the floor next to Mike's abandoned football, and stretched out on the carpet. The game was only a minute in, and the Patriots had already intercepted Green Bay's ball. Chuck didn't care about either team, nor did he really care about football in general. Awesome's friends were rooting for the Patriots, however, so Chuck decided to root for the Packers. Chuck crossed his arms behind his head, and prepared to zone out for a few hours.

He unexpectedly felt Sarah's hair tickle his face, and suddenly she was lying next to him. "Move over," she said, placing her head on his arm. Chuck scooted over to allow her more room on the pillow, but her face was still just inches from his, and Chuck couldn't help but notice every point of contact with her body—her head on his arm, her hip touching his, and her bent knees gently bobbed against his every once in a while. It wasn't much, but Chuck was sure that this was the closest physically that they had ever been for an extended period of time. He was suddenly very nervous.

"What did I miss?" Sarah asked, turning towards Chuck.

Her small movement made Chuck even more aware of her proximity. "Not much, the Patriots intercepted the ball," Chuck answered, noting that his voice was an octave higher than usual.

"What?!" Sarah said, abruptly sitting up.

"Well, you see Sarah," Mike said from the couch, reaching for another wing. "The team wearing green and yellow, they're the Packers. And the quarterback was throwing the ball to someone on his team, but one of the Patriots, in the white and blue, he caught the ball instead. So that's called an interception, and the team in white gets the ball." He gave her what he surely thought was a charming smile, and settled back, waiting for her to thank him for the edification.

Chuck looked from Sarah to Mike, eagerly awaiting Sarah's reaction. He had no idea if Sarah knew anything about football, but he had spent enough time with her to know that she wouldn't put up with being treated like an idiot.

Sarah gave Mike a tight smile. "Thanks, what was it again—Matt? But I know what an interception is. I was just expressing surprise because Brett Favre, a man who has led the Green Bay Packers through sixteen amazing seasons, has never thrown an interception during a post-season game, much less on the opening drive. But if I have any more questions about the players' uniforms, I'll be sure to let you know." She grabbed the football next to her and threw a perfect spiral, hitting Mike directly in the chest.

"Oof," he said, as the ball bounced off of him. Mike's smarmy smile was quickly replaced by an open-mouthed gape. "Okay," he said meekly. "It's um, Mike."

Sarah laid back down, and when Chuck looked over, they shared a silent laugh. Sarah was close enough to smell her shampoo, and Mike had been appropriately cut down to size. He decided that maybe this football game wouldn't be that bad after all.

* * *

As the game continued, Chuck learned a few new things about Sarah. First, she loved Ellie's seven layer dip. Second, she took football very seriously, and could explain all of the complicated minutiae when an obscure foul was called on a Patriot cornerback. Third, she was a huge Packers fan. She wasn't loud and obnoxious, like Awesome's buddies, who spilled their beer giving each other high-fives every time the Patriots scored, but she exhibited the same level of concentration watching the game as she did when she was defusing a bomb. When Green Bay ran a running play, she whispered "runrunrunrunrun" to herself, and bit her lip every time a referee reviewed an important call. Chuck found himself rooting along with her, partly because her enthusiasm was infectious, and partly because whenever Favre threw a huge pass, Sarah grabbed his hand and squeezed tight. She was too tense to lie down on the floor anymore, so they sat up, leaning against Ellie's chair. Chuck noticed, however, that when Chris had to leave early, and his seat on the couch was vacated, Sarah stayed next to him on the floor.

"Sarah, I didn't know you were such a fan," Ellie commented after Sarah's small celebration when Tom Brady was sacked. "I thought you were from D.C. What's the connection with Green Bay?"

Chuck glanced at Sarah. He had wondered the same thing, but had known better than to ask. A slight blush rose from her cheeks. "I don't know. I never liked the Redskins. I guess I just liked the Packers' pretty green uniforms," she said, smiling sweetly at Mike. "So Ellie, this dip is phenomenal. Did you make your own guacamole?"

Chuck noticed the quick change of subject, and knew that his original assumption that Sarah didn't want to talk about this detail of her life—her real life—was correct. He did have to wonder, though. Did she grow up in the Midwest? When she was a teenager, was she one of those crazy fans, freezing to death in subzero weather, watching her favorite team with a big slice of foam cheese on her head? The thought made him smile, and he decided to add that mental image to the version of Sarah's backstory that he had been trying to piece together.

* * *

The end of the game was exciting, but it all came down to a review of a questionable touchdown the Packers scored in the last five seconds.

Sarah turned towards Chuck and buried her face against his shoulder. "I feel sick. I can't watch." Chuck had to laugh at how seriously she was taking the game, and mockingly put his arms around her. "Don't worry, everything is going to be okay!" He said, in an overly dramatic fashion.

She looked up, and narrowed her eyes as she saw the laugher in his face. "Are you mocking me and my beloved Packers?"

Chuck stopped laughing and looked at her with a serious expression. "Yes."

Sarah gave Chuck a playful punch in the chest, although Sarah's "playful" punches were enough to give Chuck a coughing fit. His reaction made her laugh, and as Chuck continued with his mixture of laughter and coughing, she had to laugh even harder.

"Guys, you missed it. The call's good. Game over," Ellie said from the chair above them.

"What?!" Sarah looked incredulously at Ellie, and then the television. The confetti was flying, and a reporter was already interviewing Brett Favre on the field. "We won!"

"We won!" Chuck had never understood how someone could get emotionally involved in a professional sports team, but just then, he felt elated. It must have been the excitement of the moment, combined with the fact that he already had his arms around Sarah, but without even thinking about it, he put his hands on her face and gave her a long kiss.

It wasn't their first kiss—they had had a few for show, and then there was that one amazing kiss, but he had spent so much time analyzing it, and they had spent so much time arguing over it, it didn't even seem like it had actually happened. This kiss, though, to Chuck, was perfect. It wasn't a lie, or a I'm-scared-I'm-going-to-die kiss. It just was what it was—they had been close all afternoon, they were happy, and it seemed so natural.

Afterwards, Chuck let his arms drop, but Sarah didn't pull away, or close down emotionally as she had before. She was still smiling, and Chuck breathed a deep sigh of relief when he realized that his kiss hadn't ruined the moment. He didn't know what to say. His mind raced for some witty comment, but his mind was blank. Finally, after he realized he had been staring at Sarah a little too long, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Go Packers!"

-To Be Continued-


	2. Chapter 2

Chuck, Sarah and Casey were gathered around Casey's window. Their early morning briefing had just ended, and Casey seemed eager to get them out of his apartment. Unfortunately, the rain storm that was predicted for that afternoon arrived a few hours early, and it was pouring outside.

"You don't have an umbrella we can borrow, Casey?" Chuck asked.

"Sorry, Sport-o, I only have one, and I'm heading out for some reconnaissance. I'm sure you can make it the thirty feet to Casa de Bartowski without melting," Casey said with a sneer.

"Sarah, I've got an umbrella at my place you can borrow to get to your car," Chuck said as he unbuttoned his outer shirt.

"Thanks," she said opening up the door. She crouched close to him as he tried to hold the thin cotton shirt above their heads, and they made a run for it.

It didn't matter how fast they ran—in seconds they were soaked to the bone. He hadn't thought of getting his keys out while they were still at Casey's, so he ended up fumbling for them in front of his apartment while the rain continued pouring down on them.

"Chuck, just unlock the door!" she said, holding her hands over her head in a vain attempt to keep the rain from her face. Sarah's voice was filled with annoyance.

"I'm sorry, Its not like I'm doing it on purpose," he said, his voice raising an octave as he accidentally tried to put the wrong key in the door. "Besides, I'm pretty sure we can't get any more wet than we are right now. There's a limit to these things, you know." He finally found the right key and slammed it into the keyhole. As he turned the door, he looked over at Sarah, and to his surprise, she was laughing.

"I guess you're right," she said, as she squeezed water out of her long hair.

They ran inside, stopping in the entryway, their clothes dripping water all over the floor. His laughs joined hers as he looked down at himself. His hair was falling into his eyes, the curls weighed down by the rain. His Chuck Taylor's were water-logged, and he heard squishing noises every time he moved his feet. His jeans clung uncomfortably to his skin, and because his button down shirt had been used as an ineffective umbrella, all he was wearing was a white undershirt, which was stuck to his body.

His laughs faded, however, as he looked at Sarah. He suddenly felt very exposed, noting that his shirt was probably as see-through as hers was. His cheeks reddened as he forced his eyes away from her and her rain-soaked shirt, which revealed every curve. He tried to look at her face, instead, but found himself distracted as the water dripped off of her forehead onto her red lips. He decided to focus on their shoes. He kicked off his sneakers, and she followed suit.

"We're going to drip water all over the carpet," Sarah said, squeezing out a corner of her shirt, leaving a puddle by the door. She put her arms under her shirt and started to pull upwards. "I guess we should just . . ."

Chuck suddenly realized what she was doing. "What?!?" He turned away, a painful mix of embarrassment and longing warring within his mind. "Don't worry, its only water, we won't ruin the carpet. Just leave your clothes on, okay?"

"Sorry, Chuck, she responded, a small edge in her voice. " I didn't realize you were so modest."

"I'm not modest," he said, "I'm just . . ." He let his answer trail off and cleared his throat. Chuck had no response. It was hard to explain why he had reacted the way that the had. The image of Sarah soaking wet and stripping down was something he was sure would linger in his dreams, but he hated how casual she was about it. It was as if sometimes she saw him as some androgynous partner, not a man. "I'll throw your clothes into the dryer, okay? You can borrow some sweats, unless you have somewhere to go."

"No, I can wait around here until my clothes are dry," she said, her voice a bit softer.

They sprinted to Chuck's room, and he quickly picked out a pair of pajama pants and an old UCLA t-shirt for Sarah. He grabbed a similar outfit for himself, and slipped out to the bathroom to change.

The warm clothes felt good against his skin as he toweled his hair dry. He grabbed an extra towel for Sarah, and knocked gently on his bedroom door.

"Come in," she said, and he tentatively opened the door, grateful to see that she was fully dressed. The flannel pants were too long, covering her feet, but it seemed to him that she fit perfectly into the scene—wearing his pajamas, hanging out in his room, looking through the books on his bookshelf. He wordlessly handed her the towel, and she quickly rubbed her hair until it was damp. "Thanks," she said, gathering the towel and her soaking clothes.

"Oh, I'll throw these in the dryer for you," he said. His face flushed again as he realized her lacey bra was on the top of the pile. He quickly covered it with his wet clothes, and brought them to the dryer.

When he returned, Sarah was in the kitchen making coffee. "I thought we could use something to warm us up," she said, pouring him a cup.

At that moment, Awesome walked in the front door. "Hey lovebirds!" He said, giving Chuck an approving look, and obviously interpreting their morning coffee as evidence of a successful evening. "I picked up some bagels and the paper on my way home from the hospital. We don't have much to eat, and you do _not_ want to go out there. The roads are insane!"

"Thanks," Chuck said, digging into the bag of warm bagels. "Cinnamon raisin?" he asked, offering Sarah what he knew from an earlier briefing was her favorite type of bagel.

"Of course," she said, smiling sweetly, and adding two sugars to his coffee.

* * *

After breakfast, Sarah went to check on their clothes. Chuck grabbed the paper and stretched out on the couch. He was halfway through the comics when Sarah appeared suddenly above him, grabbing the International section from Chuck's lap. He tried to sit up in order to give her room to sit down, but he was too slow—she had already slipped behind Chuck's legs and settled against the back of the couch. He shifted over as much as he could without falling off the couch, and she responded by stretching her legs between Chuck and the back of the couch without taking her eyes off of the newspaper.

She quickly scanned the international section and the front page, and then reached onto Chuck's lap again for the leisure section. Chuck felt himself blush as her hand brushed his pajama pants. He glanced over, and saw her immediately engrossed in the crossword puzzle.

He looked back at the paper, smiling to himself. Everything seemed to normal--the two of them lazing about on a rainy morning, drinking coffee and doing the crossword, the way she had unself-consciously joined him on the couch. Chuck was sure that a few months ago Sarah would not have felt comfortable enough to stretch out next to him unless she was trying to prove their cover to someone. Ellie was at work, and Awesome was already sleeping after his overnight shift. She didn't have to cover for anything at this moment, but here she was, absentmindedly fiddling with the cuff of his pants as she tried to figure out a particularly difficult clue. Chuck glanced up at her again as her fingers moved from the cuff of his pants to his ankle. She was still concentrating on the puzzle, and didn't seem to notice that her hand was now resting on his skin, and her thumb was tracing small circles on the inside of his ankle. That little gesture seemed more intimate than anything he had shared with another woman in a very, very long time.

He kept his eyes on the paper, but slowly dropped his hand until it rested on Sarah's calf. He longed to appear casually comfortable with her body next to his, but the movement caused Sarah to flinch with surprise. Their eyes met for a split second, but the moment was interrupted by a sudden loud buzz.

"Clothes are dry," Sarah said, as she leaped over Chuck and headed towards the laundry machine.

* * *

Sarah had changed her clothes and, to Chuck's disappointment, was about to head out the door.

"I forgot to tell you—Morgan's birthday party is next week. Do you want to come?" Chuck said, handing her a spare umbrella and eyeing the rain still pouring down outside the window.

"Oh, Friday night? I'm . . . not sure if I can make it." She didn't seem to be meeting Chuck's eyes, and the smile that had graced her face all morning was suddenly gone.

"Really?" Chuck sounded surprised, and a little concerned. "Do we have anything to do for a mission for anything?"

"No, nothing like that. I just ha--" Sarah started to say something, but stopped herself. "I'd just rather not go."

"Oh." His disappointment was obvious in his voice. He had been looking forward to a "date" this weekend. "Of course, I know Morgan can be a little much sometimes." He tried to give her a smile. Morgan did annoy a lot of people, but he was Chuck's best friend, and it did hurt him to think that she didn't like Morgan. She was okay with spending an entire day with Awesome's friends, but he couldn't spend one night with his best buddy?

"Its not that, Chuck," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. She seemed concerned by the expression on his face. "I just . . . I don't like birthday parties that much." She dropped her hand to her side.

Chuck was sure she was just trying to be nice. "Who doesn't like birthday parties?" he questioned incredulously, with a little laugh.

"People who don't celebrate birthdays," she responded curtly.

"Who doesn't celebrate birthdays?" The disbelief was obvious in his voice. Sarah ignored Chuck's question and reached for the door. Her reaction made him regret his laughter.

"I mean, um . . . are you a Jahovah's Witness or something?" he stuttered.

She was quiet for a moment, a blank expression on her face. "No, I just don't have a birthday."

"Sarah, everyone has a birthday." He was more confused than ever.

"Chuck, when you join the CIA, you give up everything. Your name, your family, your birthday. It's the only way." Sarah emphasized he last words as she opened the door.

"Wait," Chuck said, stepping forward slightly to block her exiit. "So you can't even tell me when your birthday is?"

"No."

"So your birthday could have been yesterday, and you wouldn't have told me?"

"I'm sorry, Chuck, I don't want to lie to you, but I need to keep some things private. I'm sorry."

"And your birthday could be tomorrow, and you won't tell me?"

She just looked at him sadly, and gave a small shake of her head.

"Okay." Chuck said firmly. "I guess tomorrow is your birthday."

"What?" Now it was Sarah's turn to be confused.

"Sarah," Chuck said earnestly. "Everyone should have a birthday. If we can't celebrate your real birthday, we'll have to make one up--the sooner the better. That doesn't give me much of a chance to throw together a party, but I'll do my best. It is your birthday, after all. What are you turning . . . 48?"

"Hey!" She gave him a light punch on his arm, and the cloud seemed to lift from her face. "Thanks Chuck, but I really don't need a party."

"I know you don't_need _ one, but its your birthday!" Chuck said, relieved that he had discovered how to bring the smile back to her face. "We've got to do something to commemorate your first birthday in five years."

"Well . . ." Chuck could tell that she was tempted. "It would be nice to have a birthday for once. Maybe _we_ could do something," Sarah said, fiddeling with the umbrella.

"Great!" Chuck said distractedly, reveling in the fact that he had actually done something right for once. "All you have to do is show up. I'll get everyone together and the whole party planned."

She gave him a quick look that Chuck couldn't quite interpret. "Okay, just let me know where. See you tomorrow," she said, waving goodbye over her shoulder.

Chuck closed the door behind her, his mind already racing about the party he needed to plan in one day. He was momentarily concerned about that odd look she had given him on her way out—and did he detect a small emphasis on the word "we" when she had said that they could do something for her birthday? Had she meant "we" as in just the two of them, alone? A real date?

Chuck decided that he was probably just imagining things. It was too painful to get his hopes up just to have them dashed time after time. Instead, he had to concentrate on something real—a fake birthday party.


	3. Chapter 3

Chuck looked outside the restaurant's doors for the fifth time in three minutes.

"Why are you acting so nervous?" asked Ellie as she tied the final balloon to a chair at the head of the table. "And why didn't you tell us before last night that it was Sarah's birthday? We wouldn't have had to run around all morning if you had just planned a little better." Ellie looked exhausted after accompanying Chuck to eight different stores in a quest to pick out the perfect gift.

"Actually, she didn't tell me. I guess she didn't want to ruin Morgan's birthday."

"Much appreciated, dude. I generally don't like it when someone steals my birthday thunder." Morgan added from behind the streamers he had hastily strung ten minutes earlier. "I guess I'll make an exception for your lady-friend."

Chuck surveyed the scene. He had wanted the night to be perfect, but the sad looking streamers indicated that "perfect" was a little above his abilities. Evidently, last minute parties were not his forte. Awesome's friend owned an Italian place right off of the Santa Monica pier, and he offered them a small private room, but they only had it from five to eight. The size of the room was not a problem, though, because last night Chuck realized that Sarah didn't know anyone in L.A. that wasn't also his friend, and he didn't have that many friends. He was pretty much tapped out with Ellie, Awesome, Morgan, Anna, and Casey. He ended up inviting Jeff and Lester mainly to fill seats. She deserved a big celebration--five years worth of celebrations. Since he couldn't do that, he had to at least make sure it wasn't depressing.

He spent half of the day yesterday wracking his brain, trying to think of ideas for a birthday present. He knew she was the type of girl who would appreciate a practical gift, but with Ellie around, he couldn't buy anything that was truely practical for Sarah. He ended up buying a gift from the local sporting goods store, and hoped she would like something slightly more personal than a new alarm clock.

Chuck glanced out the window again, this time spotting Sarah weaving in between the tourists heading towards the pier. "Everyone get your hats on!" he yelled, snapping the cone-shaped "Happy Birthday" hat on his head. He tried to hand one to Casey, who grumbled something and walked away. Chuck wasn't sure why Casey had even accepted the invitation, but he was glad he did. Even if Casey was a wet blanket, he was someone who understood Sarah. That didn't make him her friend, but it was more than Chuck had at times. Chuck made a mental note to throw Casey a birthday party next month.

Sarah walked in the door to cries of "Surprise!" True to her training, she was an excellent actress, and seemed very surprised.

* * *

It had, surprisingly, been a fun party. Sarah's obvious enjoyment in celebrating her "birthday" had been infectious, and her expression of delight that accompanied each present made all of the stress in planning the party worth it. Ellie had been disappointed with Chuck's choice of birthday present, but when Sarah opened it, Chuck knew he had made a good choice. Her face lit up when she took the soft, green sweatshirt out of the box. 

"What is it?" Anna asked.

Sarah paused for a second, then turned the gift around to show everyone the Green Bay Packers sweatshirt. Anna was obviously unimpressed by the gift of a sweatshirt, but Chuck thought he detected a slight hitch in Sarah's voice as she thanked everyone for all of her gifts. She seemed to be avoiding his eyes for a few moments, until the rest of the guests started gathering their belongings. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, and then glanced over at Chuck.

"Thank you," she mouthed silently, and then turned away again.

"Bye guys, thank you so much for everything. This was a wonderful birthday," said Sarah, emphasizing the word birthday, a grin plastered on her face. She gave Ellie a long hug, and even gave Casey a kiss on the cheek. He blushed visibly, and wiped the lipstick off his cheek. "Don't go making Chuckles jealous," he said, turning and walking quickly out the door.

"I'll take everything back to our place, you guys enjoy the rest of the night," Ellie said, gathering up Sarah's presents. She headed out the door, and Chuck and Sarah were left alone.

"So, happy birthday! February 7th. That's a good day for a birthday." He said, helping her with her coat. "So, sorry about the early-bird special party, but that's all I could get with one day's notice."

"Chuck, I meant it. It was a great party. The best birthday I've had in_ quite_ some time." She reached back and pulled her hair from the back of the sweatshirt. "So . . . I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Her voice had a hint of sadness in it.

"Tomorrow? You know you still have four hours of your birthday left. I'm free and at your disposal if you want to milk this thing some more." Chuck said lightheartedly. "You know, you only get one of these a year. Anything you want—I'm up for it."

"Alright, I guess I could still celebrate a little," she said, her smile growing. She paused for a moment, thinking. "Can we go down to the pier? I've never really been there just for fun."

Chuck was surprised, considering the last time they were down there they had almost gotten themselves killed, but he was happy to do anything she wanted. "Cotton candy and carnival games it is, then!"

* * *

The party had been fun, but to be honest, Chuck had to admit that he enjoyed the time walking the pier with Sarah, just the two of them, so much more than the official celebration. Sarah seemed more relaxed than he had ever seen her. Most of the time they were together they were either working or establishing their cover, so they had very little experience just being themselves together.

Chuck entertained Sarah with stories and dopey jokes, and it was nice to know that when Sarah laughed at them, she wasn't just pretending to laugh so that everyone would think they were a happy couple. He loved to hear her laugh. It was a quiet—much more subtle than Ellie's or Jill's—but whenever he heard her laugh, he knew he had really earned it. Her life was so serious most of the time, so he treasured the moments when she was brought out of her shell.

They were a little too stuffed from dinner to eat cotton candy, and Chuck had to admit that he hated all rides that involved motion, so instead they spent way too much money on arcade games. It turns out that, despite her protests that it was rigged, Sarah was very good at the simulated shooting gallery. After a sub-par first round, she became more comfortable with the plastic rifle, and a large crowd of teenage boys gathered around her as she expertly demolished everything in sight.

"Your scope's off. You should fix it." Was all she said as she tossed the rifle back to the surprised teenager sitting next to the targets.

Chuck and Sarah continued walking towards the end of the pier. They had lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Chuck glanced at Sarah out of the corner of his eye. She had a small smile on her face, and was looking out towards the sea. There was a slight chill in the air, and she was tugging the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her wrists. Chuck had to fight the urge to take her cold hand in his, and instead shoved his hands into his pockets. It was so frustrating to have to turn boyfriend mode on and off so quickly.

He turned away from her, and saw an old photo booth by the side of the pier.

"Have you ever used one of those?" he asked.

"Never," she said curiously.

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

She puased for a moment, then gave Chuck a mischievous smile. "Race you there?"

They ran towards the booth, and both tried to cram into the small door at the same time. Chuck managed to shove his body in first, and sat on the small stool in front of the camera. Sarah followed immediately. She obviously had not realized how small the cubicle was, and when she threw her body in the booth, she had nowhere to land except for directly on Chuck's lap. She gave him a slightly embarrassed look, as they both tried to untangle their long legs. There was more shifting as Chuck leaned forward to pay for the pictures.

* * *

Two minutes later, they untangled themselves again, and were looking at the four small, grainy, black and white pictures.

In the first picture Sarah's arm was behind Chuck's head, braced against the wall. It seemed to Chuck as if she was trying to lean on her arm, keeping her weight off of Chuck's lap. They both had tight smiles on their faces, and Chuck's elbow was crammed against Sarah's ribcage.

In the second picture, Chuck was leaning forward and pointing towards the camera. His mouth was open, and he was so close to the camera that his head took up most of the frame. There had been a long pause before the second picture, and he was convinced that he had to push a button for another picture. He was wrong. Sarah was barely visible in the background, laughing at the fact that Chuck was about to be blinded by the flash.

Chuck had leaned back again for the third picture. Sarah's hand was still on the wall behind Chuck, but her posture was more relaxed. Chuck's face was turned towards hers, and he was telling her a joke. She was looking at him, and the dimensions of the booth meant that her nose was just inches away from his.

The fourth picture was Chuck's favorite. Sarah was laughing at Chuck's joke and leaning into his shoulder. He was laughing, too, her blonde hair partially obscuring his face. Her hand had slipped off of the wall and had fallen on his shoulder, and his arm had been jostled and was now lying across her legs.

"Which are your favorites?" Sarah asked. "You get half."

"Half? No way, its your birthday present."

Sarah continued to examine the pictures. "No, you get two. Don't you want a memento of my birthday?"

Chuck thought about it a moment. "You're right, I do. But you pick yours first."

"Okay," she said, gently tearing the pictures apart. "I like the second one and the fourth one."

"_Really_?" Chuck said incredulously. "My head is the size of a watermelon in that one!"

"Its cute," she said with a simple shrug, putting her pictures in her pocket and handing Chuck the remaining two.

Chuck beamed at the compliment. Granted, she hadn't said that _he_ was cute, but it was close enough. He tucked the pictures in his pocket, knowing that he would put them on his desk right next to the picture of the two of them from Halloween.

They walked back towards the beach, filling the time with easy conversation. She was just an inch away from him, walking much closer than she needed. Once again, Chuck felt an overwhelming urge to hold her hand. They brushed fingers at one point as their arms swung in unison, but Sarah didn't seem to notice. Chuck carefully weighed the options in his head--would it be awkward if he took her hand? He wasn't sure how she felt, but it had seemed like a romantic evening to him. They were by the beach, under the stars, and despite the crowds, it seemed to Chuck like the rest of the world had melted away. There were no spies, no Intersect, no lies. Just the two of them out on a date.

Chuck cleared his throat, and was just about to make his move, when there was a sudden commotion. Always on guard, Sarah stiffened and placed her hand on the back of the waist of her pants, where Chuck knew she always had a gun. That movement brought Chuck back to reality. There were spies, and Sarah was one of them. There were lies, the biggest one being that this was a date.

Chuck looked around in a panic, wondering what was going on. He saw a woman to the left of them who had let out a loud scream. The soda and popcorn she had been carrying were spilled at her feet, and her face was a ghostly shade of white. The tourists crowding the pier scurried away, wanting to avoid the scene. Something was definitely wrong, he just wasn't sure what. He didn't flash on anything, but the woman seemed to be looking right at him.

Usually, at the first sign of danger, Sarah's first move was to protect Chuck at all costs. Tonight, however, she had taken her hand off of her gun, and had stepped slightly behind Chuck, grasping his wrist tightly.

"Sarah . . ." he said nervously, her demeanor worrying him more than the pale woman who was moving closer and closer to him. Sarah didn't respond.

The woman lurched towards him. She was no longer screaming, but she was now gasping for breath. She only got one sentence out before she burst into tears.

"Susannah, is that you?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chuck felt Sarah's grip tighten around his wrist, and heard her suck a long breath in, as if calming herself. The woman had stopped a few feet in front of Chuck, her tears wet in her eyes, but no longer falling freely down her cheeks. Chuck had no idea what the woman was talking about, nor why Sarah was standing silently behind him. He did know, however, that for the first time he was put in a position of protecting Sarah. He instinctively stood up straighter and stepped fully in front of her.

The woman tentatively reached her hand towards Sarah. "Suse?"

Chuck cleared his throat, and tried to sound as authoritative as possible. "Sorry, Ma'am, but you've got the wrong person."

He turned quickly towards Sarah to lead her away. For the first time, he saw Sarah's face. All of the color had drained from it, and her glassy eyes were locked on the woman's. Chuck tried to catch her gaze so that she could give him some sort of signal about what to do, but she was ignoring him.

The woman didn't seem to have even heard Chuck. "Susannah, its me, Emily." Her voice cracked, and she had a desperate look in her eyes.

Sarah finally seemed to snap out of her daze. She stepped forward, glancing quickly at Chuck. "I'm sorry, my name is Sarah. You must have me confused with someone else."

Sarah's tone was polite, but her voice shocked Chuck--she had seamlessly developed an Australian accent. Chuck felt like he had been kicked in the gut. Just a few moments ago, they were a normal couple, playing carnival games and taking goofy pictures. The ease with which she slipped into another identity scared Chuck more than whatever governmental secret this woman was the key to—how could he ever know who she really was, if she could turn into a new person like the flip of a switch?

"Sarah?" Emily's voice trembled. Sarah was standing tall, with a determined look in her eye.

"It's just that. . . you just look so much like her." Emily could not continue. She raised her hands over her eyes, and started to quietly weep.

Chuck had no idea what to do, and stood staring at her for a moment. Sarah's unusual reaction to Emily had surprised him so much that it had taken him a few minutes to process what was going on. For the first time, he realized that Emily might not have anything to do with a government mission. His thoughts were too jumbled to make much sense of anything else at the moment. For now, a woman was standing in front of him, and was falling apart before his very eyes. It didn't seem very kind to just stand there and just stare at her.

It became obvious that that was exactly what Sarah was planning on doing. She seemed paralyzed, unable to move on or to comfort the woman. Chuck couldn't stand their inaction any longer.

"Its okay," he said, gently patting her on the shoulder. "There, there." He immediately felt like an idiot. Did anyone actually say "there, there"? How was that at all helpful? He looked at Sarah again for help, but her eyes were focused on Emily. He couldn't read her expression, but he had become very accustomed to that feeling. He turned back to Emily, feeling foolish as he rubbed the stranger's back.

He got out another weak "its alright," before she turned towards him and started crying into his sweater. A moment later, Emily seemed to have regained some of her composure.

"I am so sorry," she said, her voice still shaking with tears, as she pulled away from Chuck. "This is just so embarrassing. Its just that she looks so much like Susannah." Emily turned back towards Sarah, and was again at a loss for words. She brought a trembling hand to her mouth. "Oh my god, I'm going to be sick."

Chuck immediately sprung into action, quickly leading her to the side of the pier, where she bent over the rail and began retching. He stood helplessly next to her unsure of what to do next, when he was surprised by Sarah's presence on the other side of Emily. She was leaning towards Emily, gently rubbing her back, but she was looking at Chuck, trying to communicate something unknown with her eyes. Chuck fished some tissues from his jacket pocket, and handed them to Emily wordlessly.

A moment later, Emily stood up. She was still slightly shaky on her feet, but some color had retuned to her face. Chuck looked beyond the woman to Sarah, who was no longer patting Emily's back, but gripping the pier tightly and staring out to the ocean. Emily was looking out towards the sea as well, and as she dried her tears with the tissue, Chuck was suddenly struck by her appearance. He had been too confused to notice it earlier, but as they stood side by side, the resemblance between the two women was unmistakable. Emily was about five inches shorter than Sarah with a larger build, but their profiles were identical. Emily's hair was dark, but her teary blue eyes matched Sarah's. Sarah didn't know Emily from a previous mission. Sarah knew Emily from Sarah's previous life.

He now understood what Sarah had tried to communicate to him with her eyes--she needed to maintain her cover. What he couldn't understand, however, was how she could look at someone she knew and loved in so much pain, and lie straight to her face.

Chuck's thoughts were interrupted by Emily's profuse apologies. She was obviously embarrassed by her actions.

"Don't even think about it," Chuck said. He didn't know what to do, and Sarah offered no guidance. She was still standing motionless by the side of the pier. He decided that Emily was in no shape to be left alone, so he gently led her to a nearby bench and sat down next to her. "I'm Chuck," he said with a smile, shaking her hand, "and this is Sarah." Chuck pointed to Sarah, who was standing off to the side of the pier. As soon as he said it, he realized that, by buying into Sarah's cover, he was joining her in her lie. He felt horrible lying to Emily, who looked so devastated, and who so closely resembled the woman that he loved. He thought that he knew Sarah well enough to know that she would never intentionally hurt someone without reason, so he decided to just trust her judgment.

"I'm Emily," she said, returning Chuck's smile, and glancing towards Sarah. The sight of the blonde seemed to unnerve her, so she turned towards Chuck again. "I'm just so mortified . . . I'm not normally the type of person who freaks out on two strangers," she said, forcing a weak smile onto her face. "I feel like I need to explain myself."

"No explanation needed, as long as you're okay," Chuck said, trying to sound comforting. He looked over Emily's head at Sarah. She looked calm, but recognized a bit of panic behind her eyes. As much as he wanted to hear what Emily had to say, he could tell that Sarah did not want him to hear it.

"No, I need to . . . I need to explain myself." Her words tumbled quickly out of her mouth. Chuck tried to protest, but she continued. "I'm not normally like this. I'm just here for a conference, and I've never been to California. I thought I'd see the sights, so I came out here. And then I saw her . . . Sarah," Emily gestured towards Sarah without looking at her. "And everything just came flooding back to me. It was like seeing a ghost. My cousin—Susannah—she's been gone for five years. They could have been twins."

Emily's voice haltered, and she paused as she wiped new tears from her eyes. Chuck took a moment to look at Sarah. She had moved closer to the bench, but she still stood rigidly to the side.

"You always think that when you lose someone, you would give anything to see that person again, just for a moment. And as crazy as it seems, I thought, just for a second, that someone had been listening, and that was my moment. I know it was insane, but sometimes grief drives you crazy, you know? But it wasn't Susannah, and it felt like losing her all over again." Emily took a deep breath, obviously overwhelmed by the words falling out of her mouth.

Chuck offered her his last tissue, and looked up at Sarah. She finally met his gaze, and he was surprised to see that her eyes were wet with tears. As soon as their eyes met, he knew that his suspicion was correct. He hoped she understood that he was just trying to get everyone out of the situation with as little pain as possible. Sarah seemed to resign herself to what was happening, and she gave Chuck a small nod with her head as she sat down on the other side of Emily.

The woman flinched slightly when Sarah sat down next to her. The reaction obviously caused Sarah great grief. She mindlessly ran her fingers through her hair and leaned back on the bench so that Emily could not see her pained face as Emily continued.

"I know I'm not making any sense, I know I'm babbling, its something I do whenever I get nervous. Susannah used to always call me a motor-mouth. Not her, though. She was always quiet, but when she said something, everyone listened, you know? I say whatever comes to my mind, but she . . . she was different."

Emily sighed again, and continued. "Susannah was my cousin, but I always thought of her as a sister. We grew up three houses down from each other, and there wasn't a day that went by that she and her little brother Nate weren't over at my house, shooting hoops in the driveway or pigging out the in kitchen. They practically lived with us. She didn't have it easy, living with her family. Her mom died when she was ten, and her dad . . . wasn't a very good father. They struggled a lot. But you would never know it by looking at her. She was the type of person who could do anything. She volunteered as a pee-wee hockey coach, and she made all-state in hockey and volleyball. She was the year above me, and she helped me with my homework all the time. She was so smart, you wouldn't believe it." Emily grabbed Chuck's hands, as if trying to will him into understanding how special she had been.

"I bet she was," was all Chuck could get out. He heard the emotion in his voice, and found he couldn't say anything more.

"She was the first one in our family to go to college. Georgetown! We were so proud of her, even her dad. She majored in International Studies. Can you believe it? I'd never even been out of Wisconsin, and she was going to travel the world. I missed her so much when she was at school so far away. I lived at home and went to UW-Green Bay, but whenever she came back during breaks, it was just like old times. We would go to Packers games, the movies, and sometimes we would just drive around and talk about everything—guys, our futures, politics. Everything. But the last time she came home, right before she was supposed to graduate . . . I don't know, its like she knew something was going to happen to her."

Chuck just nodded. The flood of information was overwhelming. He thought he had wanted to know everything, but instead, he wanted to beg Emily to stop. He was sure that the pain he heard in Emily's voice was etched on Sarah's face, but he didn't have the courage to look at her. He couldn't stand the thought of Sarah in pain, but he was sure that deep down, Sarah wanted to hear Emily's story. Otherwise, she would have stopped her by now. So instead, he squeezed Emily's hands, comforting her while desperately wishing he could comfort the other woman on the bench.

Emily continued: "I mean, looking back at it, she was just acting really strange. We had a real heart-to-heart. She asked me to watch over Nate. I thought it was because she was moving to D.C. permanently, or maybe because he had started hanging out with some real losers, but . . . I don't know, its like she had a premonition or something. She even tried to patch things up with her dad. She told me about it the night before she went missing. She never cried or anything, but I could tell that she was upset. They had gotten into a fight, and I'll never forget what she said. She said, 'It was my last chance.' I told her it wasn't her last chance, that he could get sober and they could work things out. She just looked so sad, and gave me a hug. That was it. I never saw her again. I don't know why I didn't sense right then and there that something was wrong. I'll just never forgive myself for not asking her what she meant."

"You can't blame yourself." Both Chuck and Emily were startled by Sarah's soft voice. Chuck looked over Emily's head, trying to will her to look at him. If she would just meet his eyes, perhaps she wouldn't feel so alone while hearing all of this, but she was fixated on Emily.

"I know, its just, if I had asked, maybe Susannah would still be alive, you know? Or, at least, she could've told me something, given me some clue that would have helped the police. The worst thing is not knowing. If I knew who, or why, maybe I could move forward. I mean, we don't even know for sure . . ." Emily's voice cracked. "We never found her body. We didn't even have a funeral until a month later. If I knew for sure that she was dead, maybe I wouldn't be acting so crazy, thinking that I saw her on a pier in L.A." She gave a small, bitter laugh.

"You aren't acting crazy." Chuck didn't know what to say. "Maybe you're right, maybe she is out there, somewhere, and she wishes she could see you but she can't for some reason." He hoped the thought would provide Emily with comfort, and would communicate to Sarah that he understood her pain.

Emily gave him a grateful smile, and he was struck again at her resemblance to Sarah. "I really wish I could believe that. But the police were certain she was killed. Her . . . blood," Emily paused again, gathering her strength. "It was all over his truck."

"Whose truck?" Sarah's voice was still soft, but it had a sudden urgent edge to it. Her expression had changed from one of pain to one of fear.

"Her dad's. I never believed it. I mean, he was a drunk, but he wasn't violent. The police, though, they pegged him from the beginning. Of course they would, I mean, they had had just had a fight, and he was too drunk to remember anything from that night. They couldn't prove anything, so in the end they had to let him go. The damage was done, though. Everyone still believes he did it, even in the family. It ruined him. To lose his daughter, then to have the whole town think he did it? He never recovered. He just sat in his house and drank. It finally killed him last year."

At Emily's last words, a small cry escaped Sarah's lips. Chuck immediately looked at her, and the shocked expression on her face, along with the fresh tears falling from her eyes told him that this part of Emily's story was new to her. Emily was blowing her nose, and did not notice as Sarah leaned back and pushed the palms of her hands against her wet eyes.

She had had enough. Chuck didn't want her to hear anything more, and he couldn't let Emily see Sarah's emotional reaction to the news. He quickly stood up, still holding Emily's hands. He put his arm around her short shoulders, and led her away from the bench.

"I'm so sorry about your cousin, Emily. But I'm sure she is in a better place right now. All you can do is just keep her memory alive." He was just repeating every stock phrase he had heard at his father's funeral years earlier.

"Thank you for being so nice to me," she said, looking up into Chuck's eyes. "I haven't talked about Susannah in a long time. It hurts, but you're right, I have to keep her memory alive."

She suddenly wrapped her arms around Chuck, and he returned the warm hug. "Thank you again," she said, and looked back towards Sarah, who was still sitting on the bench. "And thank your girlfriend for me. Let her know I'm sorry if I upset her." She gave one last look back towards Sarah, and waved goodbye to Chuck. A moment later, she had disappeared into the crowd on the pier.

As soon as she was gone, Chuck rushed back to Sarah. He fell to his knees, and wrapped his arms around her. In contrast to the warm hug he had just received from her cousin, Sarah did not respond to his embrace. She simply sat there until Chuck released her and moved next to her on the bench.

They sat in silence for a moment, until Chuck couldn't stand it. "Sarah, I am so sorry, I can't even imagine . . ."

"Chuck, please." Sarah's natural accent had returned, but her voice was cold. It was a tone he recognized from many missions. It was usually reserved for when she was reprimanding Chuck for disobeying her orders.

"Sarah," Chuck began, but he was cut off again.

"I can't talk about this right now. I need to be alone." She wouldn't even look in his direction. She stood up and started walking away with a blank expression on her face.

"No, wait," he said with desperation in his voice, jumping up to grab her hand.

She looked down at his hand, and then finally met his eyes. The blank expression was momentarily replaced with a flash of pain.

"I'm sorry, Chuck. Please just let me leave." She removed her hand from his, and suddenly she was gone, disappearing into the crowd.


	5. Chapter 5

A week had passed since the night on the pier. Chuck hadn't flashed on anything recently, and things were quiet around the Buy More. Chuck normally would have been grateful for such a break, but this time it just gave him more time to worry about Sarah.

He had barely spoken to her all week. He had searched for her at the pier and her apartment, but she was nowhere to be found. She took two days off of work at the Wienerlicious, and didn't accept any of Chuck's calls. The phone would just go straight to voicemail, causing the same pit in his stomach as the time he thought she had ran away with Bryce. He was so relieved when he stopped by the Wienerlicious on Sunday and found her frying hot dogs for a crowd of young boys that he didn't mind when she curtly told him that she was busy, and to come back later.

When he returned at the end of his shift, however, he found she had already left for the day. The same thing seemed to happen all week—either she was too wrapped up in her work to talk, or she slipped out of work early. Finally, on Thursday, he made up his mind to talk to her at lunch, no matter what. He respected her need for privacy, but whatever she was going through was too big to deal with alone. Unfortunately, he forgot that Thursday was Sarah's day off. He headed home from the Buy More to change, hoping that he would find Sarah at her apartment that evening.

As he walked into his apartment, he saw Ellie struggling to get into a pair of high heels while simultaneously brushing her long brown hair. She was wearing a short red dress, and looked up with surprise as Chuck walked in.

"Hey you, long time no see," she said, straightening up and checking herself out in the mirror. "Sorry I've had such crazy shifts lately."

Ellie had been working overnights for the past two weeks to make up for the fact that she and Awesome were about to go on vacation. Chuck had missed her company that week. He knew he couldn't talk to her about anything that was going on with Sarah, but anything would have been better than sitting around alone, night after night, wondering if Sarah was okay.

"That's okay—you're not leaving for San Francisco until Saturday, right?"

"Yeah. I can't believe we're actually going for a whole week! Devon and I are going out to Alfredo's, and I'm sure you and Sarah have Valentine's plans, but I'll be around all day tomorrow, so lets plan some serious brother-sister time, okay?"

With the word "Valentine's," Chuck's heart dropped. With everything that had been going on that week, he had completely forgotten about Valentine's Day. That explained Ellie's fancy dress and the fact that Morgan hadn't bugged him about hanging out that night. Chuck knew Sarah wasn't a sentimental person, but he couldn't stand the thought of her spending Valentine's Day alone, especially not after the week she had just experienced.

"Of course," Chuck stammered, whipping off his Buy More tie. "We're going to, uh, dinner tonight. But I'm around all night tomorrow to help you pack or whatever, okay?"

"Sounds great," Ellie said, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day," she said as she ran out the door.

* * *

Chuck sighed, looking at the pathetic bouquet in his hands. By the time he left for Sarah's, all of the florists were closed, and the grocery store only had only a few flowers left. The wilted roses were better than nothing, however, so he tried to fluff them up as he knocked on her door.

There was no response for a moment. Chuck started to panic. He had no idea where to find her if she wasn't at home, and he didn't want to spend one more day without talking to her about what had happened on her "birthday."

Finally, he heard movement on the other side of the door. He stood up straight and tried to tame his unruly hair. She finally opened the door, and he was struck by the lifelessness in her eyes. She was clutching a robe around her body, and her hair was tied in a bun. It looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Hey Chuck." She didn't seem happy to see him.

"Hey there." He handed her the flowers. "Happy Valentine's Day."

The surprise on her face was evidence that she, too, had forgotten about the holiday. "Oh . . thanks." She stared at the flowers for a moment, the two of them still standing in the doorway. Finally, she turned around and walked into the apartment, grabbing a small vase sitting on her nightstand. Chuck took her actions as an invitation, and stepped into the room.

His plan hadn't gone much further than going to her apartment, so he just stood silently, waiting for her to say something. She fiddled with the flowers for an unnecessarily long time, until finally she turned towards Chuck.

"So listen, I know last week must have been . . . weird for you. So we should talk about that," Sarah said, obviously not eager to talk about it.

"Okay, great," Chuck said, grateful that she brought up the subject.

Sarah began speaking in a calm, rehearsed voice. "Emily was my cousin. For my family's safety, I tried to keep that part of my life completely disconnected from my life now. Unfortunately, that separation has been breached. A lot of what Emily said was new to me, so I've had to do a little thinking this week. Thank you for giving me some space." Sarah delivered her speech without taking a breath. "I'd like to sort some things out, and I wanted to know if I could ask for your help in doing that." Her last words fell from her mouth quickly.

Chuck's mouth fell open. He didn't know what he expected Sarah to say, but he certainly never thought that she would be asking for his help. "Of course I'm here for you—for whatever you need," was all he could choke out.

"Great. I need you to take a week off of work. And maybe Ellie's license plates, since I know she'll be on vacation."

* * *

After careful consideration, Chuck threw a second sweatshirt into his duffel bag. Ellie had left an hour earlier, and since then, he had been busily throwing anything he could think of into his bag. Sarah hadn't been specific about where they were going, so he had no idea what to bring. Sarah had spent the morning at Casey's apartment, supplying him with some excuse for their absence, and she was currently in the garage, switching her license plates with Ellie's. He tried to assuage his guilt by reminding himself that Ellie would never know. Hopefully, Sarah had a good enough reason for putting Chuck in the position of lying to this sister.

"Ready?" Sarah entered his room, a backpack slung on her shoulder.

"I have no idea—what do I need?" Chuck asked, holding his raincoat in his left hand, and his winter jacket in his right hand.

"Your winter jacket," she said, pointing to his right hand. "And a hat and gloves, if you own them. I'll meet you in the car."

Chuck pawed through his closet for a scarf, hat, and gloves, then grabbed his bag, and headed out the door.

* * *

Sarah was driving, and the two of them sat in easily silence. When he had thrown his bag in the trunk, Chuck had been surprised to see it filled with camping equipment, but had waited to say anything until they got out of L.A.

"So where are we headed?" He asked, trying to sound casual.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about that. I'm not quite sure."

"What?" Chuck couldn't contain his surprise. Sarah always had a plan.

"Well, I know where we our destination is, but we need to take our time getting there, so I was going to let you map our route. Is there anywhere you want to go between here and Wisconsin?" Sarah's face was expressionless, and her eyes were focused on the road.

Chuck nodded to himself silently. Ever since their conversation on Thursday night, he had suspected they were going to Wisconsin. He let a few minutes pass while he processed the information. He had no idea what Sarah planned to do when they got there, or why she asked him to accompany her. He hoped it was because she needed a friend. The thought of her seeing him as a true friend, and not just a mission, made him willing to go forward with whatever surprises this week held in store for him.

Chuck pulled out the map from the glove compartment and started to plan their trip. "How many days do we have to get there?"

Sarah thought about it for a moment. "I'd say that we need to take about four days to get there. There are a couple of ground rules, though. This trip has to be totally off the grid. That's why we needed Ellie's license plates and why we aren't flying—no I.D.'s, no credit cards, okay?"

"Sure," Chuck said, absentmindedly looking over the map, until a thought came to him. "Wait, no credit cards? You can't rent a hotel room without a credit card."

"I know. That's why there is a tent and two sleeping bags in the back."

"Sarah—its February. We are driving to Wisconsin."

"Well, the sleeping bags are supposed to be adequate up to zero degrees. And once we start heading north, we'll just have to stay at . . . _smaller_ motels that will accept cash."

Chuck noticed the emphasis Sarah placed on the word smaller. "You mean seedy? Okay, whatever you want. You could've warned me, though. I would've brought roach spray." He traced his finger along the highway on the map. "Have you ever been to Utah?"

"Utah? No."

"What?!" Chuck said, with mock surprise. "I've been somewhere that the famous globe-trotter hasn't?" She gave him a soft punch to the shoulder, and for the first time since they were at the pier, Chuck saw her smile. He knew this would be a hard week for Sarah emotionally, but he resolved to do anything he could to buoy her spirits, even temporarily. He would do anything to see that smile again. "Just stay on this highway for a while, and I'll take you to one of my favorite places in the world."

Chuck pulled out his ipod and connected it to the auxiliary plug in Sarah's car. Remembering his vow to distract Sarah from her worries, he scrolled to the playlist he had made last night. He knew that she wasn't really familiar with any music from the past few years. He created a list mostly composed of songs he was sure that she would know and which were sure to keep the mood in the car light, along with a few selections from recent years for her musical education.

Chuck turned up the volume, and immediately started belting out the words for the first song:

"You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far

Cause you know it don't matter anyway

You can rely on the old man's money

You can rely on the old man's money"

Sarah started laughing immediately. "Am I really stuck in this car with you for the next week?"

Chuck was busily air drumming. "C'mon Sarah, you know these words." He held his fist up like a microphone for her.

She stared at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"Don't cha kna-oooo . . . I need a Hall for my Oates . . ." Chuck crooned.

She rolled her eyes at him. To his surprise, however, she joined along as back-up during the chorus, adding off-key "Rich Girl"'s and "Woo-hooos" in support of Chuck's enthusiastic melody. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing with satisfaction the smile on her face as she bobbed along to the music. Mission accomplished, for now.

* * *

An hour later, they switched drivers. Sarah immediately pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper and started writing something. Chuck left her alone until she was done.

She capped her pen and re-read her letter several times before she looked at Chuck. "Can I ask for your opinion?"

Chuck was taken aback, honored that she would ask for his opinion on something. "Of course, anything."

"Just let me know if you think this letter is too cryptic or too obvious," she said, and began reading aloud:

"Dear Lemmy,

It was so nice to run into you on the pier in Santa Monica. What a surprise running into an old friend from Camp ESN! I wish we could have had more time together to catch up. There is so much I wanted to tell you, and I'm sorry I didn't have time to explain why I had to leave so suddenly, but I hope to talk with you soon to explain the whole story. I'll actually be visiting Green Bay on February 20th. I was wondering if I could stop by your house late that evening. I won't have time to see everyone in town, so I would appreciate it if you don't mention my arrival to anyone else. Feel free to invite Nate to stop by, though. I would love to see him again.

Love, Beans."

Sarah looked up at Chuck for his opinion. "Do you think she'll understand?"

"Absolutely. You were clear that she shouldn't tell anyone." He paused for a second, wondering whether questions about her past were still off limits. "Beans—was that a nickname?" he asked.

A wistful expression appeared on Sarah's face, and she gave a small laugh. "Yeah. I was pretty tall as a kid. Beanpole just turned into Beans somehow. She hasn't called me that in years, though. No one from the CIA should know about it."

Chuck was astonished. "Do you really think they'd be checking her mail?"

"No, I don't. But right now, nothing would surprise me. I don't really know what they are capable of anymore." A cloud passed over her face, and Chuck decided not to pursue the subject. "The next time we switch drivers, I'll mail this letter. There should be enough time for it to arrive before we do."

Chuck gave a small nod. "Sounds like a plan."

Sarah placed the letter in an envelope, and then slowly got out a second sheet of paper. Chuck noticed that her hand seemed to be shaking. "What are you doing now?" Chuck asked curiously, stealing a glance at her small handwriting.

Her face tightened, and though she appeared to be calm, he could hear a waver in her voice as she responded.

"I'm killing myself."


	6. Chapter 6

Sarah drove in silence, every so often glancing at Chuck sleeping in the seat next to her. The sun was setting and the pinks and oranges in the sky made the red desert ground look like fire while the surrounding plateau's shadows deepened. The effect was astounding. She had been in deserts before—Morocco and Syria just last year—but something about this place was different. On those missions, she had barely noticed the topography. Her attention was always on an arms dealer or a terrorist or whomever it was the government told her to catch or kill. Thinking back on it, she couldn't really form a memory of any of those places. She could remember exactly what Roskin had been wearing the day she trailed him from his meeting in Rabat into the Sahara, but she only had a fuzzy recollection of the dunes that provided her with cover that week. She found it ironic that her training had taught her to always observe every detail of her surroundings, but she never actually saw any of it.

Perhaps it was the light playing tricks on her, or the vast stretches of nothingness sprinkled with strange geological formations, but there was something eerie about this place. It literally felt like Mars, and she suddenly felt like maybe she was on an alien planet, far away from the twisted scenario that had become her life over the last five years.

She knew she used to think she was completely fulfilled by her job. Now she couldn't even face who she had become. She had hurt everyone she had ever loved, and for what? Loyalty to an organization that had betrayed her? How much farther was she willing to go for the CIA? After everything she had learned during the past week, the nagging suspicions she had held about the end point of her current mission were now at the forefront of her mind. She was facing the existential spy crisis she had described to Chuck, but it wasn't until now that she truly understood what he had been trying to tell her.

How had one decision she made as a twenty-two year-old changed the entire direction of her and her loved ones' lives? She wasn't sure, but she was hoping that this trip would give her some space from her job and help her clear her head. Driving silently through the empty desert, she already felt a weight lifting from her shoulders.

It had been so difficult, telling Chuck about her plan to kill Susannah, once and for all, but once that was done, she felt relieved. She had known it was the only solution for days. Writing her suicide note was painful, but she knew in her heart that it was the only way to clear her father's name. Of course, Chuck had been horrified when she told him—he had practically run them off the road. He tried to change her mind, but after a long debate, she finally convinced him that it had to happen. Her family would never be safe if Susannah ever came back. Each argument she made to Chuck solidified her decision and quieted any doubts in her head. She was driving down a road that she had chosen five years ago, she had just been to young and naïve to know it at the time.

Sarah used to love her job. She loved the excitement. She loved traveling the world, never knowing where she would be next. She felt so powerful, capturing treacherous criminals and protecting dangerous secrets. Most of all, she loved serving her country. She had been so proud when her government had recruited her, telling her that she had excelled at a unique combination of skills. She was one of only three recruits that been selected for a top-secret branch of the CIA that year. Richard, her handler, explained to her that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. At first, she wavered. It was a lifetime commitment, and she was expected to completely give up her previous life. It was too dangerous for her family for her to keep her old identity. She would gain everything she had ever wanted, but she had to give up everything she had ever had.

She now thought about that last conversation she had with Richard with bitterness. He had convinced her that this was the life she was meant to lead, but she had one request. She made him promise that when it was time for her to disappear, that he would make sure her family didn't worry or have to suffer. He assured her that she could move on knowing her family would be all right. He told her would arrange it to seem like an accidental drowning--the perfect cover. There would be no blame, no guilt, and no body.

Looking back, she wanted to shake that naïve girl who had been so trusting, so enamored by the CIA that she would believe anything they said. They didn't care about the ramifications of their actions, they didn't care who they hurt. Richard staged a murder, knowing that a car covered in her blood and a drunken, angry father was a tighter story than a difficult-to-prove accidental drowning. Richard framed her father to make his clean-up job easier, and Sarah was going to have to live with her role in that lie for the rest of her life.

Now, after five years of lying for a living, she was finally forced to face the truth. She had to apologize to her family, and there was only one person who knew exactly what she was going through. She looked over at Chuck again, sleeping in the passenger seat. His long legs crushed into an uncomfortable position and the side of his face was plastered against the window as a small snore escaped his lips. She had no idea what was to come on the long road home. One thing was for sure, though. After this trip, nothing would ever be the same.

* * *

It was already dark by the time they arrived in Moab. They had stopped in town to grab some supplies, and Sarah had been shocked at how quickly the temperature had dropped. She looked longingly at one of the hotels in town, but decided that they should stick with their initial plan of camping. Based on the latitude of their planned route, this was probably the only night they could realistically avoid a hotel, so she just had to hope that Chuck had packed enough cold weather gear.

Sarah had never been to Moab, but Chuck had raved about it in the car. He had been there with his college buddies one spring break, and despite his general aversion to most athletic activities, he had really enjoyed spent the week hiking and mountain biking through Arches National Park. She couldn't really get a good sense of the town or the park in the dark, but she liked the fact that it was remote and practically deserted this time of year.

She pulled into a campsite, and was delighted by the fact that the nearest RV was forty yards away. The thought of sleeping out in the open and exposed to the unknown terrified her. She was still an agent, after all. She was grateful, however, for the fact that there was a full moon, which gave the open landscape an supernatural glow. The light would make it easier to set up the tent, but it also would make surveillance easier throughout the night.

They crawled out of the car, exhausted and cramped from their day-long trek. As soon as they hit the cold air, they both immediately ran to the trunk, pawing through their bags until they each found their hats, gloves, and winter coats.

"Jesus, Sarah, its cold. Are you sure you want to do this?" Chuck asked, shoving a wool hat onto his head.

"Its best to stay off of anyone's radar unless absolutely necessary." She zipped up her green sweatshirt, and threw her black down parka on over the top of it. "We'll build a big fire. We'll be fine."

"Okay, whatever you say," he said, already trying to figure out the tent and its poles, awkwardly clanging the metal supports together.

* * *

Luckily, they had no immediate neighbors, so no one was disturbed by their squabbling over the next forty-five minutes. Chuck had been a boy-scout, and was therefore convinced he knew how to set up a tent properly. Sarah was positive that she had figured out how to set it up by just looking at the instructions earlier in the day. Neither was right, and by the time the simple tent was set up, they were both sweating and barely speaking to one another.

Sarah began hauling wood over to the small fire pit. "Do you trust me with this, or do you want to lecture me on the tripod-method of proper firebuilding?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"No, I think you can handle the Bartowski-method. It involves throwing a bunch of wood and newspaper into a pile and dousing it with lighter fluid," Chuck responded with a small smile.

Sarah accepted his smile as a sign of a truce. She returned his smile, and continued with her work. Soon, a blazing fire erupted, and Chuck began roasting two hotdogs on a long stick.

There was a large boulder on the other side of the fire pit, so Chuck walked over and sat down, resting his back on it while Sarah tended to the fire. She poked at a large log for a few minutes until she finally got it to turn over. At that moment, as the logs shifted and new wood was exposed to heat, the wind changed direction, and Sarah was suddenly overcome with a large cloud of smoke. The acrid smoke choked her, and she started coughing and sputtering, lunging away from the smoke.

As she finally caught her breath and wiped the tears from her eyes, she found herself faced with Chuck's laughing face. The smoke still curled around her side of the fire, so she slid further towards Chuck and hit him playfully on the shoulder. "It wasn't that funny."

"Oh, on the contrary, I'm pretty sure it was. That was definitely not the Bartowski method of fire tending." Chuck's laughs continued.

Sarah gave him a bitter look, but plopped down next to Chuck. There was plenty of room around the fire, but she found herself sitting close enough to him that their shoulders touched. She could feel his body heat, even through their layers of winter clothing. Her fingers brushed his on the ground as she sat down, but she didn't move them away. She coughed again. This time it wasn't due to the smoke, but to break the tension from what she perceived as a forward move.

"You okay?" Chuck asked, slightly concerned.

"Fine. Hand me a hot dog."


	7. Chapter 7

Chuck watched as Sarah licked the last of the gooey marshmallow off of her fingers. They had been sitting in an easy silence for the last fifteen minutes, only the sounds of the crackling fire and the scurrying of small desert animals disturbing the quiet. When he had first met Sarah, he was constantly worried whenever conversation waned between the two of them. He was sure that she was bored with him, so he tended to try to fill the void with inane conversation. Recently, he had come to understand the fact that it wasn't about him, she just had a quiet nature. He had learned that he didn't have to try so hard, and he finally learned to relax into Sarah's natural rhythms.

The fire had kept them warm at first, but it neither of them had added new wood in a while, and it had lost all of its heat. Chuck felt Sarah drawing closer, but assumed that she was probably just trying to stay warm.

"Cold?"

Sarah nodded, drawing her arms around her knees and pulling them close to her chest. Chuck drew even closer to her and put his arm around her back and rubbed vigorously.

"Better?"

Sarah turned her face towards his and nodded, giving him a small smile and an almost wistful expression in her eyes. Chuck couldn't really read her expression, but it wasn't until that moment that he realized that their faces were only inches apart. His first instinct was to withdraw, but he refused. He had no idea what Sarah was thinking, but he knew that he was not going to chicken out so easily, no matter how many mixed signals he received from her.

His courage extended only as far as keeping his arm around her shoulders. Anything more would have been inviting rejection. He had prepared himself for her to pull away, so when she tipped her head so that it was leaning on his shoulder, he was pleasantly surprised. Her hair was tickling his nose, but he didn't dare move. The moment was too precious to risk ruining it. Chuck looked down at the fire, which had burned down to the embers, when her voice suddenly broke the spell of the quiet night. "I guess its time for bed."

"Um, okay, sure." Chuck realized his voice had gone up an octave. He had been anticipating this all day with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. They had only attempted to sleep in the same bed that one disastrous night, and that hadn't even lasted an hour before they discovered Ellie had been poisoned. He honestly didn't really expect anything to happen tonight. Despite all of the little signs she gave him that perhaps she returned some of his feelings, she had told him several times that there could never be anything between the two of them. He had to respect that, but that didn't mean the thought of spending the night with her didn't quicken his pulse.

She was up and crawling into the tent before he realized it, a cold breeze suddenly blowing on his side where her warm body was just a moment ago. He scrambled up and followed her into the dark tent.

He couldn't see much, so his other senses took over. He fiddled with the tent flap until he found the zipper and closed them in for the night. It wasn't tall enough to stand up in, so he felt around the floor on his hands and knees until he found the sleeping bag he had rolled out earlier and backpack beside it. He heard more zippers and rustling as he tried to orient himself. When his eyes finally adjusted, he was shocked to see Sarah's shadowy figure in the corner. The moonlight coming in the tent leant just enough light to reflect off of her bare skin as she drew her sweatshirt over her head. She folded it neatly and leaned over on her hands and knees, rummaging through her bag for her pajamas. Chuck could not make out many details, but the sight of the milky-white skin on her back and shoulders broken up by the black lace of her bra almost put Chuck over the edge. The nervous babbling, which he had thought he had gotten control over, came back in full force.

"I'm sorry, I'll give you some privacy." He turned around and started pawing for the tent zipper, eager to get out and get some air. It suddenly felt like he couldn't get any oxygen into his lungs. "I'll just change outside."

"Chuck, don't be silly," she said, an edge of annoyance in her voice. "We're both adults. Besides, its midnight, we can't see anything in here. Relax."

"Um, okay." Chuck felt like he certainly couldn't leave now, but he wasn't sure he could handle turning towards Sarah, either. He just fiddled around in the corner and straightened his sleeping bag for a few minutes until he was sure she was completely changed.

"Here," she said after a minute, throwing his bag towards him. "I'm safe and sound in my sleeping bag."

"Thanks," he said, quickly changing into a pair of flannel pajama pants. He glanced over at Sarah, wondering if she could see as much of his body as he had of hers, but she was already lying down, her back towards him. Something about her posture and the annoyance he heard in her voice earlier told him that any hopes he had had for that night were probably going to stay that way—just hopes.

He pulled a long sleeve t-shirt on over his chest, and settled into his warm sleeping bag, grateful that Sarah had brought CIA-level cold weather gear. He glanced at the figure next to him, wondering how to get back to the level of comfort they had had just minutes ago around the fire. He was lying on his back, staring up at the tent and listening to her breathing, when she suddenly said something.

"Chuck?" she asked in a small voice, as if she was afraid of waking him.

"Yeah?" he whispered back, although he didn't know why.

"Are you still awake?"

"Yeah," he said, deciding not to call her out on her inane question. There seemed to be heaviness to her voice, so he thought he should just let say whatever was on her mind. Her back was still to him, but he turned so that he was facing her.

There was a long pause. "I'm thinking . . . I'm thinking of leaving the CIA."

Chuck had no response. He was shocked. After a moment of silence, Sarah spoke again. "What do you think?"

Chuck had no idea how to respond. "Is this . . . is this because of your father?"

Sarah sighed, but she didn't turn towards Chuck. "It's a lot of things. I guess I just don't trust them anymore. I don't feel any loyalty to the organization. And you can't work in my line of business if you don't trust your superiors. Without absolute trust, mistakes are made and people are killed, and I don't think I can ever be part of that team again. They framed my father for my murder. I can't forgive them. But it's not just that." She stopped for a moment, but Chuck sensed that she had more to say, so he stayed silent. "Over the past week I've questioned a lot of things. I've gone back and reconsidered some things I've been told and some things that I've observed. I realize now that my loyalty to the CIA allowed me to turn a blind eye to something I didn't want to see. Chuck . . ." Her voice trailed out to a whisper. "I think that within the next few months, either Casey or I will be ordered to kill you."

Her words bounced through Chuck's head a few times before he could truly comprehend them. It was something he had feared for months, but hearing the words aloud made everything real. His chest felt suddenly constricted.

Sarah finally turned towards Chuck, her eyes reflecting sorrow and fear. "I'm sorry."

Chuck didn't have to ask her what she was sorry for. Once he finally swallowed the lump in his throat, he could talk again. "Its okay," he said, giving her a weak smile. "I was pretty sure that was how it was going to end. Every computer has a back-up, right? And once my back-up is up and running, they wouldn't exactly want a Nerd Herder running around with every governmental secret encoded in his brain. I get that." Chuck was worried that his emotion was about to be betrayed in his voice, so he said no more.

Sarah was obviously unsure of what to do next. She pushed her hair behind her ears, and then fiddled with her necklace for a moment. She finally sat up slightly in her sleeping bag and inched it towards Chuck. He looked at her with surprise, but instinctually reached his arm out. She looked at him gratefully, and slid next to him, her head leaning on his shoulder. Her arm quickly wrapped around his chest, and in response, he curled his arm around her back. They lay like that for a few minutes, neither saying a word. Chuck had never felt so confused before—he felt destroyed by Sarah's revelation, yet his thoughts were continuously interrupted by the pure joy he felt by the fact that she had embraced him so intimately. The question of why Sarah was even telling him this information, why it mattered to her so much that it would cause her to give up her job and what that meant about her feelings towards him was just entering his mind when she spoke again.

Sarah looked up towards Chuck. "What do we do know?"

Chuck hoped his face didn't express the surprise he felt in her asking him for advice for the second time that day. He stammered for a moment, trying to think of a response. "Well, I mean, if you leave the CIA, what do you do? Just resign? Do they just let you do that?"

Sarah gave a small, bitter laugh. "No, they wouldn't let that happen. I've seen an agent try and just leave and go back to his old life. He lasted three weeks before he had an 'accident' while cleaning his gun. I'm not sure if it was the agency or if they just tipped off some of his enemies, but it isn't safe. I would either have to go rogue and operate under the protection of another operation, or I would just have to disappear."

"Disappear?"

"Go far away, live under the radar. I have one or two people I could trust to help me establish a new identity."

"That sounds safer than going rogue, I guess." Chuck squeezed her tighter, an awful realization dawning on him. "Is that what this trip is about, then? You're leaving?"

His mouth was suddenly dry, and he tightness in his chest threatened to overtake him. He saw this coming but still was caught by surprise. Sarah was leaving, and he would never see her again. The thought sent him into a panic. He had been realistic about their chances together. She was his handler—a relationship would be totally inappropriate. She could be transferred at a moment's notice. He could die. She could die. All of this time he knew that he'd be losing her, but that didn't mean that it was okay, that didn't mean he was ready.

"What? Sarah's voice was filled with surprise. "No. I mean, not right this moment." She leaned up on one elbow in order to be able to look Chuck directly in the eye. "Chuck, I couldn't leave the CIA unless you were safe. I couldn't leave you alone, knowing what I know now. Casey has become fond of you, but if he gets the order, he will terminate you. I could never let that happen." Sarah seemed to be trying to communicate something with her eyes, but he couldn't read her expression. "We're in this thing together, okay? Chuck, I'm asking you what you think we should do now."

The panic that had filled his chest a moment ago suddenly was mingling with a different feeling of tightness around his heart. A second ago, he had been unable to imagine his life without her. He wasn't quite sure what the subtext to her words was, but something in her tone told him that perhaps she wasn't able to imagine her life without him. For now that thought was enough to calm his thoughts for the moment, and allow him to fall asleep with her by his side.

* * *

The sun streamed into her eyes, and she bolted up instantly. Chuck's arm, which had been slung around her waist, was flung to the ground suddenly. Her breath was heavy for a moment, her hand on her gun next to the sleeping bag. As she surveyed the interior of the tent, she remembered where she was and relaxed, lying back down next to Chuck.

His eyes were wide open, staring at her with concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, obviously surprised by her abrupt awakening.

"Sorry," she said, unzipping her sleeping bag, already sweating from the desert sun. "Occupational hazard. Sleep is an agent's worst enemy. There is nothing that makes you more vulnerable. I guess I just don't sleep that well in strange places."

"I could tell. You woke me up about ten times last night," he said, groggily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Sorry about that. I heard a lot of noise, and you can never be too cautious. Turns out there were a lot of little chipmunks scurrying around last night."

"No problem, I wanted to get up early anyways. I want to get up the trail before there's a crowd," he said, already rummaging through his bag for a change of clothes.

"We're going for a hike?" she asked, still surprised that the man she had known only as a computer nerd had such a love for the great outdoors.

"I told you I was going to take you to my favorite place in the world, right? It takes a little effort to get there, that's all."

Sarah stopped to re-tie her sneaker half-way up the trail. She straightened up, taking in the 360-degree view. Chuck had been right, it was beautiful, and she was sure that it would be covered in tourists if they had waited until later in the morning to start their hike. The orange dirt from the early stages of the path still covered her shoes, but the trail had evolved into a meandering path along large sheets of slickrock, unlike anything she had seen before. They had hiked far above the valley where they had camped, and Sarah was impressed by the ease with which Chuck hopped from rock to rock, farther and farther up the steep slope. He stopped and looked back at her, squinting into the morning sun.

"This is amazing, right?" By the tone of his voice, she knew he was hoping that she approved of his assessment of Arches National Park. "I just wish I had brought my camera."

"It is amazing," she said, nodding in agreement. "But, unfortunately, no pictures. We were never here, remember?"

He sighed, kicking a rock with his sneaker. "I know, I know. We went to my friend's wedding in Seattle. Got it." He looked at the landscape disappointedly. "I just wish I had some evidence of this." he looked at her, and she suddenly had the feeling he was talking about more than just the park. "I just wish I had something to look back at, that's all."

She walked up the path towards him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I don't know about you, but I've got a pretty strong memory. I'm not going to need pictures to remember this trip with you." She looked directly into his eyes for just a moment, and then started hiking again, leaving him a few paces behind her.

They hiked in silence for another thirty minutes until the trail narrowed and curled around a large cliff. "Wait," Chuck called to Sarah. "I want to go around this turn with you."

Sarah looked back at him with confusion. "Why? In case you haven't noticed, there's only about three feet of path between this rock wall and that sheer drop of about two hundred feet."

"I know," he said shyly sliding up next to her along the narrow trail, "I just want to see your expression."

"My expression? Why . . ." Sarah stopped mid-sentence, as her eyes lit up and a gasp escaped her lips. They had just rounded the high rock wall, and they were suddenly met with one of the most striking landscapes Sarah had ever seen. Thirty feet in front of them lay a small rock ledge, then a large sandstone bowl—a sloped swirl of rock circling down three hundred feet in one continuous sheet. On the opposite side of the rock slope stood a beautiful arch rising at least fifty feet in height. It teetered on the edge of the rock bowl, looking like it could fall in at any moment, though it had probably stood in that spot for a thousand years. The sun, still low in the sky, gave the arch an orange glow.

"Its beautiful," was all she could say, knowing that her words could not express her feeling.

"I know," he said, a look of pure joy on his face. "Its my favorite place in the world. And I wanted to share it with you."

She looked over at him, suddenly overwhelmed by the beauty of the scene and the kindness of the man who constantly surprised her. All she could do was nod. It was small things like that—the genuine wish to share a piece of himself with her—that made her dizzy with confusion, made her question her job and her loyalty and want to simply be with this man. She knew it had started out as a harmless crush. There was nothing wrong with having a little affection for someone she was assigned to protect. It actually made her better at her job, she had told herself. It wasn't until the night on the helipad that she realized how much she loved him.

He was being lead away from her, forever, and there was nothing she could do about it. She would never see him again. She saw it coming but still was caught by surprise. She had been realistic about their chances together. She was his handler—a relationship would be totally inappropriate. She could be transferred at a moment's notice. He could die. She could die. All of this time she knew that she'd be losing him, but that didn't mean that it was okay, that didn't mean she was ready. So she had reacted without thinking, ready to pull her gun on a fellow agent. Luckily, it hadn't come to that, but the experience shook her to her core. Ever since then, she had tried to separate her feelings from her job, but it hadn't been easy.

Now things were even more confusing. She was through with the CIA, but where did that leave Chuck? Where did that leave them? Would he want to abandon everything he had ever known to run from the CIA with her? If not, could she really leave him alone and unprotected? The questions threatened to overwhelm her every moment of the day, but she made the conscious decision to push them out of her head briefly, and just enjoy the day with Chuck.

They quickly scrambled over to the rock ledge, simultaneously sitting down and stretching their legs out next to one another. They both leaned back on their hands, drinking in the view. Sarah once again found her hand touching Chuck's, but instead of the nervousness that she felt last night, she felt totally at ease. Perhaps it was the scenery, or the understanding they seem to have come to last night, but she found herself more relaxed than she had been in years. She reached back towards her backpack, drawing out her cell phone.

"I don't think you'll get reception up here," Chuck said, eyeing her phone curiously.

"I don't want to call anyone," she said, pushing a button on her phone and bringing it up to her eye. "I want to document this moment."

"Hey!" Chuck said, playfully. "What happened to out policy of no evidence of this trip? What happened to no credit cards and no receipts and long memories, yada yada yada?"

"There's no evidence wewere here," she said, showing the picture displayed on her camera phone to Chuck. "Those feet could belong to anyone." Indeed, the frame of the pictures was perfect—the arch and sandstone bowl centered in the background, with two sets of legs stretched out in the picture's foreground.

They shared a laugh over the picture, and proceeded to take several more, each of which included their feet, knees, hands, even their rear ends, but never their faces. After enjoying the view for a half an hour, a large group of hikers descended upon them, and they decided it was time to leave.

Their mood was light as they left, and when Sarah stumbled briefly on the narrow trail, Chuck instinctively grabbed her hand. She looked down at her hand in his, surprised how something as small this could affect her, even after they had been acting as a couple for months. As she steadied herself on her feet, she felt him start to remove his hand. She held on for a few moments after he let go, and although she was too shy to look directly at his face, she saw his confused expression out of the corner of her eye. She knew she was incapable of clearing up his confusion, so she just continued on a few paces ahead of Chuck as they began descending the mountain.

* * *

They packed up their campsite, and headed out of the park. They were both disappointed to leave before they saw the whole park, but it was time to get on the road. They drove into Moab in order to fill up on gas before they headed on the barren road east, and found themselves arguing about Chuck's playlist on his ipod.

"John Denver?" Sarah laughed.

"Come on, we're heading to Colorado. Everyone loves 'Rocky Mountain High'," Chuck said, singing along with the chorus.

"You cannot hit those high--"

"STOP!"

Sarah's laugh was interrupted by Chuck's panicked scream. She saw a black streak run in front of her car and applied the brakes as quickly as she could, but it was too late. She heard a sickening thump as the tires squealed to a stop.

They both scrambled out of the car as quickly as they could, sharing a horrified glance. Chuck reached the skinny dog lying on its side a few feet in front of the car first. Its eyes were glazed over, and its fur was dirty and matted, but not bloody.

Sarah looked around and ran into a near-by coffee shop as Chuck lifted the dog onto his lap. She sprinted out a minute later and helped Chuck stand up with the limp dog in his arms. "There's a vet's office five blocks east of here," she said as Chuck tried to comfort the dog. "Let's go."

* * *

"Well, he is very lucky," the young doctor said, finishing up his examination of the dog. The black and gray dog had perked up considerably in the last half-hour, and was responding well as Chuck petted his back. "The area around his stomach is obviously very sensitive, but I don't think there are any internal injuries." The doctor looked at the dog's teeth again and sighed. "The accident didn't do much damage, but it's obvious this dog has been severely neglected." They had noticed how skinny and dirty he was as soon as they had picked him up, but it wasn't until they put him on the examination table that they realized the rough shape he was in, even without the accident. His left ear was slightly mangled, and his right rear leg was missing, an ugly scar the only thing remaining. The doctor had speculated that it was from a very old injury, and that he seemed to be doing just fine without it.

"I know you folks are just traveling through, so if you would like, we can take care of having him brought to the pound." The dog wasn't wearing a collar, and the doctor had already done a test and found no microchips embedded in his skin.

"The pound!" Chuck squeaked, covering up the dog's floppy ears. "We can't let him go there, Sarah!"

"Chuck, what do you propose we do with him?" Sarah looked genuinely confused. "We took him to the doctor, that's all we can do."

"Sarah, he'll be put to sleep there. Look at him—no one would ever adopt him."

Sarah looked down at the dog, now greedily snacking on some milk bones. He seemed to be some sort of small border collie, but was most likely just a mutt. His fur was gray and black and was covered in layers of dust and mud. His three legs were skinny and scarred, probably from run-ins with other dogs or cars. He would never see the other side of three days at the pound, and Sarah knew it. The dog looked up at Sarah, pleadingly. She was sure he was just begging for a treat, but she had the strange feeling that he knew that his life lay in her hands. Sarah looked at Chuck, and his pleading brown eyes seemed to match the dog's sad black eyes.

"Okay, okay, but he better not get my car dirty."

After a stop at a local pet store, they were finally on the highway. The dog was spread out on top of Chuck's sleeping bad in Sarah's tiny backseat. He was fitted with a new red collar, and had already eaten a quarter of the bag of dog food they had bought.

"He probably hasn't eaten in a week," he said, turning around to scratch the dog on his head.

"I'm sure he hasn't." She looked at him in the rear-view mirror. "Just so you know, I don't really like dogs. So he's not allowed in the front seat, and he's not allowed in the hotel with us, okay?"

"Not allowed in the hotel? Sarah, it's cold in the car at night!"

"Too bad, he's probably been sleeping outside for months. Plus, hotels don't allow dogs."

"I'm pretty sure the types of hotels that accept cash only don't really have high standards when it comes to cleanliness." Chuck sighed, but decided not to push the issue for now. "So what should we name him?"

"Name him? Are you planning on keeping him?" Sarah looked at Chuck as if he was crazy. "I thought we would just bring him back to Los Angeles with us and drop him off at one of those no-kill shelters."

"Of course I'm keeping him!" Chuck gave him another scratch behind his mangled ear. "I said I wanted something tangible to help me remember this trip. Now I've got it. Now back to his name. How about Gerald?"

"Gerald?" She had to laugh. "That seems a little sophisticated for that disastrous-looking mutt."

"Disastrous?" Chuck said in mock offense. "How can anyone look at that starving, beaten-up, run-over, three-legged, smelly dog and call him a disaster? I'd say he is pretty fortunate, getting hit by an expert in evasive driving such as Ms. Sarah Walker. He's pretty lucky, I'd say." The dog took another treat out of Chuck's outstretched hand and gave him an appreciative lick.

"Lucky? He only has three legs. I have a feeling he's the most unfortunate dog around."

"He found you, right? That's pretty lucky. I know I consider myself pretty lucky. Yup, I think that's what I'll call my three-legged disaster. Lucky." The dog gave a small bark, and the name was cemented in Chuck's mind.

Sarah had to roll her eyes at the name, but couldn't keep a small smile from shining through as she thought about his subtle compliment. "I think Gerald might have been a better fit."

* * *

A/N: I just wanted to give some credit: a couple of lines were inspired by the song "When You Go," by Jonathan Coulton. It might make a few more appearances in a few other chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

"So, you're sure you can get a room without a credit card?" Chuck put the car in park and peered into the motel's reception area. He was tired--the drive through the Colorado mountains had taken longer than they had anticipated--and all he wanted to do was to get out of the small car and get into bed.

"Trust me," Sarah said, stripping off her jacket and adjusting her shirt to reveal her ample cleavage. "How do I look?" she asked mischievously.

Chuck swallowed hard, his eyes flying from her eyes to her chest to her eyes again, finally settling back on the motel, finding it the safest target. "Fine, you look fine."

"Great. I would just park over there," she said, pointing to a dark corner of the parking lot. "And keep the dog out of the window." Sarah had agreed to let Lucky in the hotel room, as long as he slept on the floor. Sarah flashed Chuck a quick smile, and walked towards the rundown motel. He watched as she sashayed into the reception area and leaned on the desk inches away from the clerk. He saw the clerk's eyes drift towards her chest as Sarah flirted shamelessly. Two minutes later, Sarah handed the clerk several bills, and he handed her the key to a room. She gave him a large smile and a wave over her shoulder as she sauntered out the door. Within a few steps, the smile was gone and the bounce had left her step. Every time Chuck witnessed something like his, his heart constricted. He was sure she made the clerk feel briefly like the center of her world, but he knew that clerk left her mind the second she turned around. Moments like this made him question those times where she made him feel like the center of her world, times like last night.

Sarah knocked on his window and smiled as she triumphantly swung the keys in front of his face. He popped the trunk and pushed the negative thoughts out of his mind. Months ago, he had promised to trust her. Even if he had his doubts, he would trust her.

* * *

Sarah dropped the keys into the dusty ashtray and observed their room. They had purposefully chosen the small rundown motel, thinking correctly that their registration process would be a bit more relaxed. That, of course, meant that the linens were yellowed, the shag carpeting felt gritty, and a faint smell of cigarettes permeated the room.

Chuck's eyes popped open. "Cozy," he said, and she couldn't help but smile. Lucky trotted into the room and started inspecting one of the corners. "On the upside, I guess no one will notice the dog odor."

Sarah told herself she had slept in a lot worse places, and threw her bag on the armchair. She took out the map and settled on the bed to plan out the next day. A moment later, she realized that Chuck was still standing by the door, staring at her. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Chuck cleared his throat and nervously stuttered. "No-nothing," he said, avoiding her eyes and instead looking around the room. "Room's great." He quickly sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down a few times. "Bed's . . . great."

Sarah realized what was making Chuck so nervous. The motel clerk had asked her if she wanted two double beds or one queen. Without even thinking, she had asked for the queen. She suddenly felt as awkward as he obviously did. "Sorry, it was the only room left."

"What? No . . . I don't care about that. Hey," he said getting up quickly and fiddling with the remote control. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice to its normal octave. "We get, uh, four stations."

Sarah decided that the best way to diffuse the situation was distraction, so she pointed to Lucky. "So, what about him? Should we try to give him a bath or something?"

Chuck looked relieved to have a project. "Definitely. He smells worse than this room."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the tub was filled with soapy water and one scared, skinny dog. It was obvious that he had never taken a bath before. As Chuck gently poured warm water over the dog's back from a small plastic cup, Lucky started shaking, but he calmed down as Chuck gently lathered the shampoo through his fur. Sarah leaned against the sink, handing Chuck a washcloth and soap, but didn't assist much further. Chuck cooed quietly to Lucky as finished rinsing the shampoo. Despite the fact that she didn't like dogs, something about the way Chuck immediately bonded with the dog charmed Sarah.

"Alright little buddy, let's get you out of there." Chuck stood up, and Sarah wordlessly handed him a large towel. The dog immediately saw his chance for escape, and leapt from the bathtub before Chuck could get the towel around him. Sarah's reflexes were quick, but not quick enough for her to avoid the torrent of water as Lucky splashed about and shook water onto Sarah and Chuck. Sarah let out a small scream of protest, but Chuck's immediate reaction was a laugh as he tackled the gray dog on his way into the bedroom.

Sarah was slightly damp, but Chuck ended up soaking wet. She had to laugh at him as she threw him another towel and dried off her own legs. A minute later, she closed the bathroom door behind her and was struck by the sudden sight of Chuck's shirtless back. Her breath caught in her throat momentarily, but she regained her composure by the time he put a dry t-shirt over his shoulders and turned towards her.

They eventually settled back into their room. Sarah was on the bed again pouring over their map, while Chuck sat on the floor, leaning on the side of the bed below her. Lucky was wrapped in a towel between his legs as Chuck mindlessly rubbed the dog dry.

Sarah looked down at the top of Chuck's head as Lucky yawned and curled up against Chuck's chest. "He seems to be enjoying the attention."

"I guess so," he responded, continuing to towel dry the dog. "He probably hasn't had anyone care about him in so long, I'm sure its nice to just be able to relax and, I don't know, feel safe or something."

Something about his words resonated deep within Sarah, and as she responded she heard a slight shake in her voice. "I agree. I think everyone should feel loved once in a while . . . even dogs."

Chuck didn't respond, but instead gave the dog a last vigorous rub and then removed the towel. "Much better, right?"

Sarah was impressed. His coat was clean and dry and had fluffed up enough to cover the scars of his previous life. A thick line of dirt now coated the bathtub instead of his fur, so he was much lighter in color than he had previously appeared. Lucky gave Chuck's hand a lick, and jumped up onto the bed before Sarah could stop him. "No, no, no," she said, quickly shoving him off the bed.

"Oh come on," Chuck said, laughing as the dog fell into his lap again. "He probably hasn't had a soft place to sleep in months."

Lucky looked up at Sarah with warm dark eyes, and Sarah realized that she had already lost the battle. "Okay, but just for tonight," she sighed. She suddenly found herself feeling slightly nervous by the mention of their sleeping arrangements, and decided the best thing to do was to just face it head on. "Speaking of, I'm going to get ready for bed."

She saw his neck stiffen as she stepped over him and grabbed her clothes out of her bag. She knew he would be nervous, too, especially after how close they had been last night. Thank god there had been two layers of sleeping bags between the two of them. If there hadn't been, she wasn't sure what would've happened.

She washed her face and changed into her pajamas, and then leaned her palms on the sink as she took a look at herself in the mirror. She had no idea what had gotten into her last night. She had practically jumped into his arms, and she had shared much more with him than she had ever planned. She hadn't intended to talk to Chuck about her feelings about the CIA, and she certainly hadn't planned on voicing to him her fear about the possibility of a termination order. She mentally chastised herself for being so open with him, and insisted that she had to place some distance between the two of them. What she had said had been reckless. Chuck didn't need the truth, he needed to feel safe. Now she had put him in danger, just like she had done with every other person she had ever loved.

Sarah ignored the doubting voice in her head--the one that told her that she was making excuses, that she was pushing him away because the honesty and intimacy she felt last night scared her more than any assassin ever could. That she felt completely raw and vulnerable every time he looked into her eyes. She also denied the fear that had sunk deep into the pit of her stomach--the fear of hurting him just like she had hurt everyone else in her life. No, she told herself, this was about his safety, and for his sake, they could not get involved. A relationship would cloud her judgment when it came to figuring out the best way to protect him from a termination order.

There was just something the eerie moonlit landscape, the crackling fire that made her feel like she could say anything to him. It had just been so long since she had felt that close to another person, so safe, so secure. Last night had been a mistake, though. Things had almost gone too far. She wouldn't let her emotions crawl so close to the surface again.

She packed up her bag and prepared to face Chuck. She was not wearing revealing lingerie, as she had the first time they spent the night together. She wanted to make sure her wardrobe didn't send the wrong message. She looked at the cotton tank top and grey shorts she had chosen. It was a little too revealing. She knew she should wear the flannel pants and sweatshirt she had worn last night, but she couldn't convince herself to change. It was warm in the room, she rationalized, ignoring how her stomach flipped when she thought about her skin brushing his during the night.

She came out into the motel room, and Chuck wordlessly passed into the bathroom with his bag. She puttered around for a moment, but found that there was nothing much to do but to get into bed. She crawled under the sheets, careful to stay close to the far side of the bed. This was going to be okay, she promised herself as she turned off the bedside lamp. She wouldn't hurt him if she just remained in control of the situation.

* * *

Chuck threw on his red-checkered pants from the night before, noting that the distinct scent of a campfire still clung to them. He didn't have another pair, so he hoped Sarah didn't mind. He drew a t-shirt over his shoulders, and stared at himself in the mirror, trying to psych himself up. "This is it," he told himself. "Tonight's the night."

He knew he hadn't imagined the connection between the two of them last night. Sarah had opened herself up to him, something he knew she wouldn't do unless she had cared for him. She had alluded to a future that included both of them, and she had indicated that a threat on his life contributed to her decision to leave the CIA. And he couldn't forget the way she had come to him and laid in his arms through the night. He knew she had rejected him before, but he had a feeling that things had changed—that she had changed. If there hadn't been two layers of sleeping bags between the two of them last night, who knows what would've happened.

Now he had a second chance. He had to admit he was nervous. It had been way too long since he had been with a woman, and he knew Sarah was out of his league. But he wouldn't let this opportunity slip him by without even taking a chance. He nervously fumbled through his overnight bag, making sure the foil wrapper was still there. He didn't want to seem too presumptuous, but he also didn't want to be unprepared. When they had stopped on the road few hours ago, he went into the mini-mart to pay for the gas. He had an internal debate the entire time he was in line, but he decided that if the opportunity presented itself, he wasn't going to worry whether Sarah thought he was too confident about his chances with her. He purchased a ten-pack of condoms, just in case.

He brushed his teeth for a second time and ran his hand through his hair. He rested his hands on the sink and leaned forward, exhaling forcefully. He was ready.

He stepped out of the bathroom into the dark room, almost stepping on Lucky in the process. He apologized quietly to the yelping dog, and felt his way to the bed. Chuck gingerly crawled into the bed and tried to hide his disappointment to see that Sarah's eyes were already closed and she was several feet away, hugging the opposite side of the bed.

His quiet entrance was soon disrupted by the exuberant dog, however, who had jumped into the middle of the bed. Chuck gave as exasperated sigh and tried to push Lucky towards the bottom of the bed. The last thing he needed tonight was a dog burrowing his way in between the two of them. Lucky bounced around the bottom of the bed, and finally settled on Sarah's feet. She gave an annoyed moan and bent her knees against her chest. Chuck flopped back on his back and silently cursed the dog. There went his romantic evening. He had no idea what he should do considering that the dog was taking up half the bed, and Sarah was already half-asleep and annoyed.

Lucky didn't like the fact that his source of heat was gone, so he crawled his way up the side of the bed and wormed his way against Sarah's torso. This time, Sarah's aggravated groan was louder. As she wriggled away from the dog, Lucky decided to stretch out and straightened his legs against her body. Sarah gave one last cry of frustration and pushed back fully away from the dog. Moments later, Chuck found that Lucky took up the entirety of Sarah's side of the bed, and Sarah was suddenly inches away from him. His silent cursing of Lucky turned into a prayer of thanks to the dog for giving him the opportunity he had been looking for.

Chuck looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Her back was still facing him, but the blanket was only draped around her waist. He could see the entire gentle slope of her side as it rose and fall with her steady breath. He tried to calm his breathing to match hers.

He knew this was it. This was his chance to see how Sarah truely felt.

* * *

This was bad. How had she allowed a stupid dog to push her into this situation? As soon as she asked herself the question, she knew she couldn't blame the dog--she hadn't put up much of a fight. Despite her conviction to put some emotional and physical distance between the two of them, she couldn't help but remember how calming it had been to fall asleep in his arms last night. That phantom embrace enveloped her, and before she realized it, she found herself inches away from him.

She felt the soft bed shift underneath her, and tensed up as she realized he had turned onto his side. His body was now practically touching hers. This was getting dangerous.

A moment later, she fought to keep her breath at a calm and even pace as he gently placed his hand on her side. She was suddenly feeling dizzy. She wasn't sure whether she had instinctively moved closer to him or he had moved closer to her, but she found that his whole body was now pressed up against hers, each point of contact sending electric shocks through her skin.

She mentally begged him to move away, but when he lifted his hand from her side, she found herself desperate for its return. A moment later, she was sure he felt her shudder as he traced his finger over her ribs down to her waist. She had no idea what to do. Her resistance to him would not last much longer.

His hand stopped as he reached the bottom of her shirt. It felt like an hour passed before she heard Chuck whisper to her. "Sarah?"

All she wanted to do was to turn towards him, to kiss him, to feel his body along every inch of hers. But she knew she couldn't. She had to keep their distance. She had to keep him safe. Moreover, that little voice she tried to ignore said, she had to keep herself safe. She closed her eyes tight, concentrated on keeping her breathing even, and didn't respond.

A moment later, she heard Chuck sigh and felt him turn away from her. It was only then that she felt the tears start to pool within her eyes. She squeezed her eyes tighter and summoned all of her training to push all of her emotions down deep within her stomach. The pain subsided, but the sleep never came.


	9. Chapter 9

Chuck zipped his duffle bag closed and ran his hand through his wet hair. He was dreading the drive that day, dreading being stuck in the car with her for the next ten hours, but he didn't really have a choice.

"Ready?" she asked, a tight smile plastered on her face. It was the first word spoken between them that morning.

"Yup," he answered, giving her an identical fake smile and throwing his bag over his shoulder. She and Lucky headed out the door, and he followed behind, happy to close the door and leave that room behind. Every time he thought about the night before he was practically paralyzed with embarrassment, so the sooner they could get out of that stifling room, the better.

He knew she hadn't been asleep the night before. She had heard him and felt him, and she had ignored him. The rejection hurt, but the humiliation hurt more. He watched her as she bent over packing the trunk. He couldn't believe he had thought he had a chance. She was an international spy, a gorgeous woman who belonged with a man like Bryce Larkin. Of course she would never sink as low as a guy who lived with his sister and fixed computers for a living. What kind of idiot was he?

Chuck was happy to see Sarah get into the driver's seat. It would be easier to hide his embarrassment behind a nap in the passenger's side.

* * *

"What's on the ipod for today?" Sarah's voice seemed to have a forced airiness about it. as they pulled onto the highway.

"Whatever. Your choice." Chuck knew he sounded insincere, but he decided strained courtesy was preferable to what he was really feeling, which was a mixture of rejection, embarrassment, and anger.

She didn't turn on the music immediately; instead she adjusted and readjusted the mirrors. She drank half of her cup of coffee in three minutes, and fiddled with her hair. Finally, to Chuck's relief, she ended the silence and turned on the music. She skipped past Chuck's playlists and put the ipod on shuffle, evidently not concerned that she wouldn't be familiar with 90 of the downloaded songs.

The next two hours passed slowly. Every once in a while Sarah would say something and Chuck would respond. His responses eventually became more and more curt, his false civility waning quickly. Chuck spent most of the time staring out the window, the night before running like a horrible movie in his head again and again. He cringed whenever he thought of his clueless optimism, and slid lower and lower in his seat as he replayed his clumsy advances in his mind.

Every time she spoke to him in the car, he thought of how she said nothing to him the night before. She had just ignored him completely. Deep down he knew that she had tried to be kind and let him down easy by just pretending to be asleep, but it didn't matter—he felt the anger building up inside of him. Deep down he knew that he was really angry at himself, but somehow he was directing his anger towards her instead. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, but he didn't really care.

They were listening one of Chuck's favorite songs, Great Salt Lake, by Band of Horses. Chuck's mind began wandering from Salt Lake to Utah to Moab, and suddenly he was back in their tent, sleeping with her in his arms. How had he read the situation so wrong?

He was still brooding on the subject when the music changed. He recognized it as a song by a band called Milton that he had heard in a dive bar sometime last year, and he let the mellow guitar intro flow over him as he stared out the window. A few moments later, his eyes widened as he listened to the lyrics:

_It's a real long time since you've been back where you were from/  
And you want to show everyone just how far you've come/  
__Now you've made your name/  
__In the big big game/  
__Now you've lived your small town dream/  
__And they're so impressed with your success/  
__But you don't know what that means_

He wanted to knock his head against the window. This was precisely why he had made a playlist. He had picked stupid songs that they could laugh at and sing along with—nothing dark or depressing. This was going to be an emotional trip for her, and it was his job to keep her mind off what lay ahead.

His heart sank as he remembered the vow he had made earlier in the trip. He had made a pretty good mess of it this morning, considering he had been doing his best to make her feel awkward about his inappropriate behavior the night before. And now they had somehow stumbled onto a song about the pain in realizing that your hometown is no longer home. This was exactly what he had hoped to avoid. He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye to see if she was paying attention to the lyrics.

_Take a walk downtown now it all looks so very small/  
No one there that you knew has a clue what you've been through at all/  
__Back in big shot land/  
__They can't understand/  
__What these people mean to you/  
__And you feel between two disparate scenes/  
__And you don't know what to do_

A melancholy expression was on her face as her eyes flickered towards the ipod. She was listening, unfortunately.

_It's a real long time since you've felt like you were at home/  
__Everywhere that you go every crowd left you feeling alone/__  
But you can't go back/__To where you came/__  
Because it's not the same today/  
And you know when/  
__There was home back then/  
__You longed to run away_

This last verse seemed to hit her almost physically. Her face had become stony, but her body had betrayed her emotions as a small shudder ran through it. Chuck immediately felt like a horrible person. He had been moping around all morning even though Sarah had tried to let him down while retaining some of his dignity. Meanwhile, she was facing things he couldn't even imagine: confessing to her family that she had faked her own death, confronting her role in her father's death, returning to a place full of memories, both happy and horrible, that she had suppressed for years. He couldn't believe he had been so selfish.

Her hand was resting on the stick shift between them. He made a promise to himself to forget about the night before.. He was her friend, which he recognized was a huge step for Sarah. And a friend was the only thing she needed right now. He would be there for her; he wouldn't ask her for anything more. He reached his hand over and gently placed it on hers as he gave her a small, reassuring smile. She shouldn't feel alone any longer.

* * *

After hours of driving, they finally decided to stop for the night. The rest of the day had gone well. Chuck had taken his promise to himself seriously, and they had somehow returned to their comfortable banter. The drive through Nebraska had been more beautiful than Chuck had expected. The towns they passed through were charming, and the sunset over the soft wheat fields undulating in the breeze was breathtaking.

Chuck stretched his arms, eager to get out of the car after the long drive. "I'll get the room tonight."

"You sure?" She looked a little concerned.

"I know I don't have a tight shirt on, but I think I can handle it," he said with a chuckle as he stepped out of the car.

He found it was easier than he had expected to convince the motel clerk to rent him a room without a credit card. Luckily, the motel had a free room with two double beds, so he wouldn't have to revisit last night's humiliation.

They walked into the depressingly bare room and shared a light joke about the moldy smell of the room. It was late, so Sarah headed immediately into the bathroom to get ready for bed. A few minutes later, Chuck was mindlessly watching the local news when she reentered the room. At first Chuck couldn't help but allow his eyes to follow her body as she walked by his bed in her skimpy pajamas, but he quickly snapped out of his trance and made himself get ready for bed.

In the bathroom he tried to ignore the unused condom in his overnight bag as he brushed past it looking for his toothbrush, but the intact silver wrapper seemed to mock him. He chastised himself for allowing those thoughts to return, so he swallowed his pride, along with some mouthwash, and tried to forget about the night before.

He tip-toed back into the darkened room trying not to disturb Sarah, but his clumsiness got the best of him, and he dropped his bag as he tripped over the gray dog at his feet. Sarah shifted in her bed, but remained facing the wall. Chuck was happy to see her already sleeping—he didn't want make an issue out of their nocturnal arrangement.

As he crawled into the bed next to hers he prepared for sleep to take over his tired body. He was immediately awakened, however, by a ruckus in the bed next to him. Lucky had jumped into Sarah's bed, and she was not allowing it. She leaned up on her elbows, a stern expression on her face.

"OFF. NOW."

Lucky had quickly learned that Sarah was not to be messed with. He scurried off the bed and lay on the floor in between the two beds, his head dutifully between his front paws.

Chuck looked over at Sarah. He was shocked at the previously untrained dog's immediate reaction. She appeared impressed, too, and they both burst out laughing over the dog's guilty expression. Somehow, in that moment, any tension left over from earlier in the day dissolved. Sarah turned onto her side, this time facing Chuck. He turned on his side, too, and they just lay there for a moment, looking at one another.

Sarah took a small breath and adjusted her head on her pillow. "Thanks, Chuck."

"For what?" Chuck asked.

"For everything," she answered, her voice quiet. "For agreeing to drive across the country with me, no questions asked. For working hard to keep my mind off things. For being a good friend."

"Anytime," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

There was another pause as the two locked eyes. "Chuck . . ." Sarah didn't continue. He didn't press her any further, instead giving her time to verbalize her feelings. "Tomorrow's going to be hard for me."

Chuck wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and comfort her, but he knew he couldn't. "I'll be there."

"I know." She stretched her hand across the space between their beds.

The gesture made him smile, and he stretched his hand to meet hers, grasping it lightly.

* * *

The next day flew by quickly. As soon as they crossed over the border into Wisconsin Chuck could sense a change in Sarah. The normal calm, cool woman next to him was gone, replaced by a tight ball of nerves. They weren't due to arrive at Emily's until late that night, so they had time to kill. Chuck had hoped for a tour of her hometown, but he knew better. Instead, they shared a silent cup of coffee at a diner outside of Milwaukee. Sarah was in no mood to talk.

It was eleven o'clock by the time they drove into Green Bay. Chuck tried to take in as many details as possible, but it was difficult to see much in the dark. They drove through the small city's downtown, passing by people enjoying the unseasonably mild night. Chuck wondered if Sarah was ever like one of those people joking and laughing as they wondered into the local bars and cafes; whether she sometimes wished she still was like them.

Sarah pulled into a gas station and parked in a dark corner of the lot. She jammed on the parking brake with a bit more force than necessary. Sarah remained in the driver's seat and smoothed her hair nervously. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Sarah finally opened the door and slowly crawled out. Chuck followed her lead and they walked silently down the block. They cut through someone's yard and Sarah led Chuck through a dark wooded area. As they made their way out of the trees, they found themselves in the back of a small yard. Sarah paused in the dark, just beyond the reach of the floodlight.

"You ready?" Chuck asked gently.

"Give me a minute," Sarah responded. She was struggling to catch her breath, which Chuck noticed was alarmingly shallow.

"Sure, take your time," he said. He had never seen her so unnerved. He looked around and saw an old swing set behind them. He gingerly leaned against the rusty pole as the swings next to him squeaked in the breeze.

Sarah stepped towards him and squeezed into the swing closest to Chuck. She sat in silence for a few minutes, gently swaying back and forth, her feet dragging on the ground.

"I'm worried about Nate," she said suddenly, her whisper in the quiet night startling Chuck.

"What about him?" Chuck asked with concern.

"I think Emily will understand. But Nate—he's different. We were really close growing up. We had to deal with a lot of painful things with our parents, but we always could count on one another. But when I went away to college, I left him alone with just my dad. My dad was a pretty angry person. I wasn't around to play peacemaker any more, and things got really ugly between the two of them. It was a mess even before Dad was accused . . . I just can't imagine what the last few years have been like for Nate." Sarah kept her eyes on the figure eights in the dirt that she had traced with her feet. "I don't know if he can forgive me for abandoning him."

"Sarah," Chuck said slowly, "He's your brother. He loves you. I know if it was me in his shoes, I would give anything just to have you back in my life, even if it was just for a moment."

Sarah locked her eyes on Chuck's for an unnervingly long time. She finally stood up, inches away from him. "I'm ready."

She took his hand and led him across the yard. She opened up the squeaky screen door and tested the inner door. It was open, and suddenly Chuck found himself slipping into a darkened kitchen. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, they crept towards a doorway and peered around the corner into a den.

They suddenly saw a shadowy figure walk cautiously into the dark den from a door across the room. "He-hello?" she whispered, and Chuck recognized the timid voice.

"Emily, its me, Sus . . ." Sarah couldn't finish her sentence before her voice was muffled by Emily, who had immediately run and embraced her.

Emily was crying as Sarah held her tightly. Chuck felt awkward just sitting and watching the emotional reunion, so he tried to take in the details of the house. The den was neat but slightly shabby. The threadbare cushions on the couch sagged slightly in the middle, but a delicately crocheted blanket gave the room a homey touch. There were toy cars and building blocks on the floor, and the walls were covered with dozens of framed pictures. Chuck longed to look closer at the pictures and get a better idea of where Sarah came from, but he decided to remain in the corner. He didn't want to interrupt the two women, now clutching each other's arms and smiling widely at one another.

"I can't believe its really you," Emily gasped quietly, "I can't believe you're here, after all this time."

"I know its crazy," Sarah said, stepping back slightly. "And I want to explain it to you."

"Okay," Emily whispered, "but first, I should tell you that Nate's here."

"Nate!" Sarah's voice rose and her eyes flickered quickly through the den's door into the hallway.

"He's . . . still adjusting to the idea. You didn't give us much time," Emily fidgeted uncomfortably. "He's in the living room. Just give me a few minutes to talk to him."

Sarah was visibly shaken. "Okay."

Emily slipped out into the hallway. Chuck and Sarah were alone again. He rested his hand on her shoulder reassuringly, and she responded with a brave smile. Chuck wasn't sure what to say, so instead they wordlessly drifted towards the front wall and its dozens of framed pictures.

Sarah began examining a framed photo of a young boy holding a newborn baby in his lap under a Christmas tree. "Wow," she said, her voice full of wonder, "they must be Emily's."

She turned her attention to the next picture. This one showed Emily sitting on a picnic blanket leaning on a tree and looking lovingly at the young boy and the baby girl who were sleeping in the sun. Sarah said nothing as she looked at the photo, a mixture of happiness and melancholy in her eyes.

A faded photo caught Chuck's attention out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, I recognize her," he said, tapping the framed glass.

Sarah walked over and stared at the picture of the teenagers for a moment, as if she was struggling to recollect the memory. "I do too," she finally said. "I was a sophomore. We just won sectionals."

Chuck looked closer at the picture, hungry to learn all of the details of her past life. Sarah was standing outside an ice rink, still dressed in her green and white high school hockey uniform. Her arms were around Emily and a younger boy, both of whom were bundled up in parkas and were a foot shorter than her. Her hair was chin length and light brown, and her eyes were filled unadulterated joy. Glancing at her now, Chuck realized the toll that her life had taken on her. Even when she was laughing, there was always a hint of sadness in those blue eyes.

Sarah gave a small laugh as she looked at the adjacent picture. "This was the next year. Nate's team played right after mine." The picture was of the three of them again, this time Sarah was still on the ice. Her hair was slicked back with sweat, her face was red from skating, and she was laughing as she gave her cousin bunny-ears. Emily stood just outside the rink holding a hand-lettered sign reading "GO WEAVERS!" Nate, who was suddenly as tall as Sarah, was in a new hockey uniform and looked nervous as he was about to skate out to his first big game.

"God, we look so . . ."

"Happy?" Chuck offered.

"I was going to say young," she said, smiling at the photo. "But happy, too."

Chuck glanced at a few more snapshots, but stopped at one of Sarah at about five years old. The picture had that fuzzy orange tint so common with all pictures from the early eighties. Sarah and Emily were in matching bathing suits, splashing around in a plastic baby pool. A young boy, probably Nate, was crawling out of the pool towards the adults sitting a few feet away. Chuck looked at them closely, trying to learn as much about Sarah's family as he could. Two women sat in rusty folding chairs next to one another. They looked like sisters, but Chuck could tell in an instant which one was Sarah's mother. It was her eyes--they weren't just the same color blue as Sarah's; they _were _Sarah's. Looking closer, he realized what was so striking. In the picture, her mother was smiling, but her eyes were heavy with pain, just like Sarah's were now.

Chuck looked at the picture closer, eager for more information. Sarah's mother was tall and reed thin, not muscular like Sarah. She held a bottle of beer and a cigarette in her right hand. Her head rested on her left hand, as if it was too heavy to hold on her own. Next to Sarah's mother sat a plumper, happier looking woman, presumably Emily's mother, with a hamburger in her hands. Behind them, in the shadows of the faded photo, stood a tall man looming over the scene. He was standing next to a charcoal grill, a spatula in one hand, a Budweiser in the other, and was yelling at someone off to the side beyond the frame of the picture, his face twisted into an angry scowl.

Sarah walked over to Chuck and inspected the picture for a moment. "Hmm," she said with a small nod.

"Is that your mom?"

"Yes." She paused. "And my dad."

"Oh." They both stared at the picture for another minute; Sarah was lost in her thoughts, Chuck wasn't sure what to say.

Emily stepped into the room, leading a tall gangly man behind her. He eyed Sarah suspiciously. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Chuck looked from brother to sister, wondering who would be the first to say something.

Finally Sarah stepped forward, refusing to break Nate's gaze. "Nate, I'm so sorry."

Nate remained silent, but heaved a large sigh and dropped his head, his light brown hair falling into his face.

Sarah looked over at Chuck, her eyes asking him what she should do. He jerked his head towards Nate, motioning her towards her brother. She gave Chuck a small nod and walked over to Nate. She tentatively put her arms around him and quietly repeated herself. "I'm so sorry."

At first, he didn't move, his arms slack against his side. He suddenly seemed to slump in the shorter woman's arms, but recovered quickly, gently tapping her back in an awkward embrace.

* * *

Nate was sitting in a lumpy recliner, quietly contemplating the bottle of beer in his hand. Emily sat next to Chuck on the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees. Sarah had just finished given them an abridged version of what had happened five years ago, and had explained to them that absolute secrecy was vital to their safety. Emily was visibly shocked, but seemed to understand that Sarah had taken an incredible risk to see them again. Nate was harder for Chuck to read—he had avoided eye contact with everyone the entire night.

Sarah had been calm as she had repeated her rehearsed speech, but Chuck detected a slight waver in her voice.

"I need to apologize to you. I was selfish, jumping at the chance to leave this place behind without thinking of how it would affect the people that I left behind. I made some mistakes, but I can't change what happened in the past. The best I can do is apologize and try and clear Dad's name."

With that, Sarah handed Emily the letter that she had written in the car. "This is my suicide note. Its in my handwriting and I've included enough details that the police should accept that I wrote it. The details should explain the blood in the truck, and I could have easily wondered into the woods and disappeared near where the truck was found. Tell the police that you were going through some of my old things when you found it."

"What good is it going to do? He's dead. End of story," Nate spit out.

Chuck was shocked, not only to hear him speak for the first time, but by the bitterness in his words. Sarah looked momentarily taken aback, but recovered quickly.

"I know, Nate," Sarah said, carefully picking her words. "I know it will never make up for everything that I have done, for everything that has happened since, but I can do is try to repair the damage that I did and clear his name. What our family needs is to be able to look back at him with fond memories, not as a killer."

"Yeah, fond memories," his voice was dripping with contempt now. "Like when he downed a half a case of beer before picking you up from school and broke your ribs when he rammed into that car? Or when he pushed you down the stairs and broke your arm? Or how about when he slammed my head with a baseball bat because he thought I stole his money? Oh yeah," he said sarcastically, "you wouldn't remember that one, beause you had already run off by then." He emphasized his last words as he got up from his chair and began yelling. "So don't _you _tell _me _what this family needs. Just go back to your great life and leave us alone."

Nate stormed into the kitchen. Chuck sat perfectly still for a moment, absorbing the family drama that just took place before his eyes. He looked up at Sarah and recognized the shell-shocked expression on her face. He knew she was erecting the same protective shell he had tried to build as a child whenever he witnessed a particularly brutal fight between his parents. He quickly crossed the room and put his arms around her, unsure of what she needed beyond just knowing that he was there for her.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she whispered, gently pushing him away. He didn't take offense. He knew her well enough to understand that she needed some space to process the confrontation. He stepped aside, but remained close.

Emily had dissolved into tears again. Sarah calmed herself momentarily, then went over and comforted her cousin.

"I'm so sorry," Emily said as Sarah dried her tears. "He's still in shock. He didn't mean it."

"No, I'm sorry. I deserve it. We always said we'd take care of each other, and I broke that promise. He has every right to hate me. I just hope I didn't do more harm than good in coming here tonight."

"Susannah, you have no idea what you coming here means to me. My best friend is alive--nothing else from the past matters. And Nate will see it that way, too, someday."

"I hope so. I don't think we're going to have enough time to work things out tonight, so I need to ask you for your help. Please just let Nate how much I love him, and how sorry I am for how everything turned out."

"Of course." Sadness returned to Emily's voice. "Does this mean we are talking about you leaving already?"

Sarah sighed. "Yes, we have to leave soon. I can't risk anyone seeing me. Before we leave though, we need to talk about you. I feel like I've done all of the talking tonight."

The outburst they had just witnessed was forgotten, and Emily smiled broadly. It was obvious that she was just overjoyed to have her best friend back in her life, if only for one night. "I've got something I want you to see, come on."

She grabbed Sarah's hand, and Chuck was surprised as she grabbed his, too. She put her index finger to her lips, indicating that they should be quiet as she lead them up a creaky set of stairs and down a cramped hallway. She quietly opened the last door on the left, and they entered, allowing a narrow beam of light into the dim room. Chuck hung back by the door, feeling intrusive during a family moment.

"This," Emily whispered, leading Sarah over to a small bed, "is Sam Jr."

Sarah knelt down next to the bed, mesmerized by the sleeping young boy tangled in his covers. "He's beautiful, Em."

Sarah's cousin beamed with pride.

Sarah suddenly looked up at Emily, a sly smile on her face. "Sam Jr.? As in Sam Corrigan?"

Emily shyly smiled and nodded. Sarah pretended to have a heart attack as Emily's face turned red.

"Sam Corrigan," Sarah exclaimed, "I didn't know you had it in you!"

Chuck realized they were referencing some person from their past. He knew he was missing the significance, but it didn't matter. He just enjoyed seeing Sarah connecting with her past in such a way.

Suddenly, the joy left Sarah's face as she retuned to covert agent mode for a moment. "Is he here?" she asked urgently, her eyes suddenly scanning the hallway as if for an assassin.

"Oh, no, nothing to worry about." The laughter left Emily's face as well. "He doesn't live here anymore."

"Em, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she responded, casually waving Sarah off. "I'm better off without him. Besides, I can't be too angry, he gave me two of the most precious things in the world." Emily turned to the back corner of the room to a crib Chuck hadn't noticed before. She leaned over and lifted out a baby.

"This," she said, bringing the infant over to Sarah, "is Susie. She's almost a year old."

Sarah stared at the child, her face full of awe. "Susie?"

The baby started to awaken in her mother's arms, letting out a small yawn and blinking rapidly. Emily looked at her lovingly, then looked at Sarah. "Yes, Susannah Jane Corrigan."

Sarah stood still, rooted in place as she stared at the blonde infant who shared her piercing blue eyes. Chuck thought he saw Sarah's eyes glaze over with tears momentarily, but they were gone before he could be sure.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"Oh, I—I don't know," Sarah stammered, her normal confident nature gone.

Emily smiled and placed Susie in Sarah's arms as the two cousins exchanged a private look.

"Its okay, you won't drop her."

Chuck was amazed at how well Emily seemed to know Sarah, even after all of these years away. He hoped someday he would know Sarah even half as well as Emily did.

Sarah looked uncomfortable holding the squirming baby, but her eyes were filled with love. She suddenly seemed to remember that Chuck was in the room, and turned to him standing by the door. She looked at him over the top of Susie's head and smiled. He smiled back, grateful that she was sharing this intimate moment with him. She kept her eyes locked with his for a moment longer as she kissed Susie's blonde curls, and then handed her back to her mother. This time, Chuck had no doubt that he saw tears in Sarah's glassy eyes.

Sarah and Chuck stood by the backdoor a few minutes later.

"I'm so sorry Nate left without saying goodbye," Emily said.

"Its okay, I understand. I wouldn't be able to forgive me, either," Sarah responded. She had been visibly upset when they came downstairs to find Nate gone, but there was nothing more they could do. It was time to go.

Sarah handed Emily a sheet of paper. "This phone number is for emergencies only. If there is ever anything wrong, call that number and ask for Natalie."

"Okay, I will," Emily said, gratefully clutching the piece of paper. "But how will I know you're okay? I'm going to be so worried about you."

"I'll check in with you every once in a while. Keep an eye out for postcards from your old pal Natalie."

After a tearful goodbye, Sarah and Chuck tiptoed through the neighborhood to their car. Chuck took the car keys and let Sarah into the passenger seat.

He sighed quietly. It had been a long day. "Alright, any other stops before we head out?"

"Just one," she responded, fatigue in her voice as well. "The cemetery."


	10. Chapter 10

Chuck shivered, even though it was a mild night. The moonlight shown down on the cemetery, but clouds had begun to obscure the light as a front moved in, adding to the eerie atmosphere. As they slowly drove down the dirt road, Chuck glanced at the car's clock. It was two o'clock in the morning. Chuck generally wasn't superstitious, but there was something about the weeping willow trees that hung over the road like dark curtains that gave him the creeps.

"Turn right here," Sarah directed.

Chuck drove down the smaller path for a minute as Sarah scanned the headstones on the right hand side.

"Okay, we're here," Sarah said quietly, almost to herself. Chuck turned off the car and was reaching for the door handle when Sarah stopped him.

"I'm sorry, I'd rather go alone."

"Sure, of course," Chuck said nervously, sitting back in the seat. He had been unsure how to treat her since they had left Emily's. He was expecting her to have some sort of emotional reaction to the evening, but so far she had just been sitting quietly in the passenger seat.

Chuck watched her as she slowly exited the car and climbed a small hill. She came to a stop in front of a pair of small, unadorned headstones. The moonlight was just bright enough for Chuck to make out the names—Vivian Weaver, b. 3/16/1959 d. 1/31/1991; and Douglas Weaver, b. 9/1/1957, d. 1/20/2007.

Chuck watched Sarah from behind as she stood absolutely still for ten minutes. She didn't even seem to notice that a light rain began to fall. Chuck began to wonder whether he should join her, but he knew he had to honor her desire for privacy. She eventually walked up to the gravestones and placed a hand on each one. Her shoulders seemed to slump momentarily as she dropped her head, but she quickly regained her composure and walked slowly back to the car.

Chuck jumped out of the car and met her on the passenger side, opening the door for her as she crawled in. He ran back to the driver's side and looked at her anxiously as he started up the car. He couldn't read her blank expression at all. Neither one of them said a word as Chuck guided the car out of the deserted cemetery. Chuck stared at the faded yellow line in the center of the empty road, unsure of what he could say that was comforting. He finally concluded that there was nothing he could say to console her. His weak words were no match for her inescapable memories. Silence filled the car, broken up only by the hypnotic "thwap" of the windshield wipers as the rain grew harder.

* * *

"Stop it," she commanded to herself as she felt the lump in her throat grow larger and larger. "Forget it. It's done," she repeated, but it did no good. She had always been skilled at suppressing her emotions, but her usual coping mechanisms were useless. She had no control over the memories flooding her mind: Nate screaming at her, his face twisted into their father's angry scowl; her mother lying unconscious on her bed, an empty bottle of pills in her limp hand; the shattering of glass after her father threw an empty bottle at her head for leaving her skates in the hallway after their win at sectionals; the way little Susannah Jane Corrigan's curls tickled her chin as she held her namesake; Nate clutching her as they hid in his closet listening to their parents wage another bloody fight; Richard promising her that her family would be safe; her father passed out drunk in his recliner as she shut the door to her house the last time. And now, on top of all that she had had to relive since the moment she stepped into this damn city, the image of his grave was etched in her mind just as the words were etched in the stone: Douglas Weaver, born September 1, 1957, died January 20, 2007.

* * *

Chuck drove for about fifteen minutes on the dark, desolate road. He was unsure whether they were actually heading towards the highway, but he didn't want to ask Sarah for directions. Her vacant stare made him uneasy. He was about to reach over for the map when the silence in the car was interrupted by Sarah's sudden jagged breathing.

"Sarah, are you . . ."

His question evaporated as he saw her formerly expressionless face suddenly crumple. She was definitely _not _okay. It looked like she was going to regain her composure, but a moment later she was sobbing. The change from her previously stoic state was so shocking that he sat frozen in his seat for a moment, unsure of how to comfort her. He finally just pulled over to the side of the road.

"Hey," he said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt and twisting towards her. "I understand how you're feeling. He's in a better place now."

He knew that her tears were about more than that, but he didn't know what else to say. He tried to hold her in his arms, but she was now doubled over in her seat, the sobs wracking her body. He awkwardly began patting her back, but felt utterly helpless.

* * *

She didn't know how it happened. She had pushed it all down to the pit of her stomach, but suddenly the floodgates had burst. She wasn't just crying over the graves of her parents. She was crying for her fractured childhood, and the fact that it could never be repaired now that they were gone. She was crying over her brother that she had abandoned and who hated her for it. She was crying because she had missed the birth of Emily's two children and wasn't there for her best friend when her marriage fell apart. She was crying for all that she had blindly sacrificed and all of the people she had left behind.

* * *

He refused to just sit there and allow her to feel alone. Opening his car door, he ran around to the passenger side in the rain. He heaved her door open, knelt down on his knees and wrapped his arms around her body in one fluid motion. Her sobs seemed to increase in intensity, so Chuck just held on tighter. She responded by lifting her head from her arms to bury her tear-stained face in Chuck's shoulder. Turning her body towards him, she clung to him just as tightly as he held her.

* * *

The rain was pouring down on her shoulders but she was safe in his arms. She was so embarrassed that Chuck was seeing her like this, but she couldn't stop. The sobs were so cathartic. They were for the years she had spent dedicated to an organization that betrayed her. An organization that viewed people, like her father and Chuck, as expendable. For the person it had turned her into--the type of person who would push away an amazing man because she was too broken and corrupt to ever deserve someone like him.

* * *

Chuck's knees were screaming in pain from the rough gravel and the rain had already soaked through his clothes, but he didn't move. He knelt by her side, rocking her gently, for what seemed like hours, until the pain and loss she had felt over the last five years seemed to finally have been released.

Eventually her sobs died down and she loosed her grip on him. He took her lead, and after a moment, dropped his arms by his side. The rain had soaked her as well and her face was pale and puffy from her tears. She immediately covered her face with her hands, and Chuck realized she was uncomfortable being seen in such an emotional state. He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. For some reason, such an intimate move didn't seem out of place after the events that had just transpired.

"Everything's going to be okay," he said as he helped her settle back into her seat. "I'm going to help you through this." He gave her another kiss on her cheek, and then closed the passenger door. He walked back to his side of the car. Soaked to the bone, it didn't matter if he rushed as this point.

He opened the car door and settled in next to Sarah, his clothes making sloshing noises as he sat down. She stole a glance at him before looking straight ahead, her face returning to its previously stoic state. Chuck refused to allow her to sink into herself and away from him again. As he pulled back onto the dark road, he reached over and grasped her hand in his.

* * *

The key to the motel room in his hand, Chuck hurried back to the car. Sarah still seemed shell-shocked, as if the outburst of emotions had drained every ounce of energy from her. Chuck held his jacket over her head to shield her from the rain as he opened her car door. Her exhaustion was evident as she relied on his help to get out of the car and leaned on him as they ran towards the motel.

They burst into the room and out of the rain. Chuck guided her to a lumpy chair and she sat down without protest.

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to take Lucky out for a quick bathroom break, okay?" Chuck asked nervously.

Sarah nodded, but didn't say anything. Chuck ran and grabbed Lucky from the car. Five minutes later, he was back in the room with their bags, but Sarah hadn't moved a muscle. She was still sitting in her soaked clothes on the wet chair.

"C'mon, Sarah, lets get ready for bed, okay?" Chuck asked gently.

She nodded again, but instead of getting out of the chair, she simply put her head in her hand, as if it were too heavy to hold up on her own. Chuck was instantly reminded of the photograph of Sarah's weary mother, and the image disturbed him. He fumbled through Sarah's bag and pulled out her nightclothes. He turned back towards her and offered her his hand.

"Let's go," he said, this time with a little more force.

She finally showed some strength as she nodded again and took Chuck's hand. She stood slowly and briskly rubbed her hands over her eyes, as if willing herself to wake out of her stupor. She looked down at her clothes, still dripping from the rainstorm, as if it was the first time she noticed that they were wet.

As Chuck stood there looking at her, her long blonde hair curled around her face from the rain, her blue shirt gripping every curve of her wet body, he suddenly remembered that day two weeks ago when they had been trapped in a rainstorm outside of his apartment. The sight of her dripping wet in his entryway had made him so _nervous_. He had practically tripped over himself trying to get away from her. God, was it only two weeks ago? So much had changed since then.

Maybe it was the fact that he no longer feared rejection—it had already happened, and he would get over it. Or maybe it was the fact that he understood her so much better now and had more faith in their friendship. Whatever it was, he knew he was no longer nervous. And he wasn't leaving her.

* * *

Sarah felt like she was still in the process of waking from an out of body experience. She commanded herself to stand up and get ready for bed, but her body didn't quite respond. It just seemed easier to fall asleep right in that lumpy chair.

He took her hands, though, and she found herself able to stand up. Staring into his eyes, she felt her strength returning. They stood still for a moment; neither one moving until he gently took a hold of the zipper on her jacket. He slowly unzipped it and began to peel the wet garment off her body. Her breath was caught in her throat by the intimate gesture.

Their roles had somehow reversed at some point in the night. She was always so in control of everything, including him. But tonight she was as vulnerable and exposed as she had ever been with anyone, and he had been her strength. As scary as that feeling was, she didn't want it to end. He had already broken down all of her emotional barriers. She wanted him to break down their physical barriers as well.

As he coaxed her left arm out of its sleeve, he leaned towards her, his mouth just inches away from hers. She practically quivered with anticipation. If she just moved slightly forward, their lips would touch. He would take her in his arms again and nothing else would matter.

Just as she was about to shift her weight forward, he took a step back. Folding up the jacket, he walked across the room to place it on the radiator. Sarah cursed herself for letting the moment pass.

"Here you go," he said as he stepped back and handed her her pajamas. He gave her a supportive smile and headed into the bathroom.

"Thanks," she whispered, staring at the closed bathroom door.

* * *

He stepped back into the cramped room, expertly hoping over the dog dozing on the floor. Like the night before, he had gotten a room with two double beds, and like the night before, Sarah was already lying in the far bed. He walked in between the two beds and couldn't help but notice how her tank top clung to every curve of her body. He quickly pushed those thoughts out of this mind, however, as he pulled back the covers of his own bed.

He heard Sarah shift in bed, and he turned back around towards her to say goodnight. When he looked back at her, though, he saw a wistful look in her eyes.

"Hey, you okay?" Chuck asked quietly, immediately concerned. He moved over and sat on the edge of her bed. He took her hand and look intently into her eyes, wishing for the millionth time that he could read her inscrutable face.

She nodded and gave him a small smile, but Chuck didn't buy it.

"C'mere," he said, urging her up into a seated position. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He didn't know what to say, so they just remained in a silent embrace for a minute.

"Thanks, Chuck," she said as he reluctantly pulled away. She began fidgeting with her blanket, and for some reason, she seemed reluctant to meet his eyes.

"Sarah, you know I'm here for you whenever you need me." He lowered his head slightly in an attempt to connect with her gaze.

Sarah finally looked up, and Chuck saw an unfamiliar look in her eyes.

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course."

Sarah suddenly became preoccupied with her covers again until she finally said something so quietly, Chuck was certain he had misheard her.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

She cleared her throat forcefully and stared directly into his eyes, willing him to understand her. For the first time in hours, Chuck saw the life return to her blue eyes.

"I said . . . I don't want to be alone tonight."


	11. Chapter 11

"I said . . . I don't want to be alone tonight."

Chuck blinked rapidly, hoping to hide his surprise at her words, unsure if he understood what she was telling him.

"Of course, sure, yeah," he said, his voice an octave higher than usual. He cleared his throat, trying to remain cool as she continued looking at him with an intense look in her eyes.

Chuck received confirmation that she was inviting him into her bed as she scooted over and lifted the covers back for Chuck. He slowly crawled into bed, his mind racing as he tried to piece together what had happened over the last few minutes. She was obviously still very upset. She needed a friend, and he had comforted her. She probably just wanted him close by so she wouldn't feel lonely. That was it, he was sure. Unless it was more.

Chuck adjusted his pillows several times before he finally settled in uncomfortably. The last time they had shared a bed had been awkward enough, and that was before she had rejected him outright. Now they were sleeping next to one another again, and he had no idea what it meant. Did she want him to just stay on his side of the bed? Should he put his arms around her in a friendly embrace? Did she want more than that? Chuck banished that thought from his brain. She had made it very obvious on several occasions that _that_ was the last thing that she wanted. He decided that the best course of action was to just follow her lead, so he turned off the bedside lamp and laid back down, his arms stiff against his sides.

He heard her fluffing her pillow and adjusting her position. He began to relax and tried to ignore how the sliver of moonlight coming in through the crack in the curtains reflected on her smooth skin. Sleep had begun to descend upon him when he felt the mattress shift again as Sarah repositioned himself. He ignored her movements, but suddenly he felt her long blonde hair tickling his arm. A moment later he was acutely awake.

She moved her head next his shoulder, and lying on her side, her body was just inches away from him. She paused for a moment, as if asking if it was okay for her to be so close. He instinctively unfolded his arm, and she instantly leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. He rested her hand against her back, and she scooted her body closer to his. Suddenly every inch of her body was pressing lightly against his. She reached her arm across his stomach and rested her hand against his chest and he almost stopped breathing. He could feel her chest against his, and he was pretty sure she was holding her breath, too.

He had no idea what it meant. They had slept in a similar position back in the tent in Moab, but then they had sweatshirts and sleeping bags between them. Now, their bodies were twisted together without barriers. Sarah's thin tank top had ridden up, and Chuck's t-shirt was all that lay between him and the milky skin of her stomach. Her long legs were bare, and she had bent her knee and draped her left leg across Chuck's.

It wasn't just the sleeping bags that were missing. Some unspoken barrier seemed to have been breached as well. He knew she had probably shared more with him tonight than she had with anyone in years. All of the walls she had manufactured around herself had crumbled. The layers of lies and unanswered questions that normally kept them a safe distance from each other had melted away, and they were left raw and exposed, tangled in each others arms.

He willed his breathing to return to normal as he tried to appear comfortable in their present position, but his muscles with taut with tension. He was absolutely torn. On one hand, her body against his felt so right. Her skin was soft and silky, and she smelled like a combination of fresh laundry and grapefruit shampoo. On the other hand, she was emotionally fragile. In her right state of mind, she had rejected him. If this escalated, it was only because she was so distraught and needed comfort. At best, she would regret it in the morning. At worst, he would be taking advantage of her. Taking things any further was a very bad idea.

She made no further movements for a minute, so Chuck assumed that she had come to the same conclusion. His heart sunk as he realized she would eventually pull away, but it was the reasonable thing to do.

He was hoping sleep would relieve him of this wonderful torture when suddenly he felt her hand move. His heart stopped. She was not pulling away. Instead, she was lightly drawing small circles on his chest with her fingers. Just that small movement was enough to drive him crazy, and he longed to duplicate the gentle circles upon her back.

He remained still, however. Ignoring her became more difficult as her hand began to drift. Chuck gulped with nervousness as she slowly traced her fingers down to his stomach.

He was struck with the parallels with the last night they slept in the same bed, but then it was Sarah who had ignored his advances. He hoped she understood that he wasn't rejecting her. He wanted to be with her more than anything, but tonight was wrong.

Sarah didn't seem discouraged by Chuck's reaction. Her fingers were still on his stomach, lightly playing with the frayed edge of his shirt. Her hand slipped down a fraction of an inch and she grazed the sensitive skin under his shirt. He couldn't help but exhale a large breath. Her tickling fingers clouded his brain. He was in agony. He was in ecstasy.

She heard his reaction, but didn't draw her hand away. Instead, she looked up at him as she scraped her fingers along the skin above his flannel pants. He wanted to avoid her penetrating gaze, but he knew he had to stop this.

"Sarah," he whispered.

"Yes?"

Her fingers stopped exploring. He was simultaneously grateful and anguished as she pulled her hand away.

"I—I don't think we should be doing this," he said.

"Why?"

"Because . . . ," he said, pausing. Holding her in his arms, he suddenly couldn't think of the end of his sentence. "I just don't want you to do anything you would regret."

"I won't regret this," she said, her eyes still focused directly on his.

He swallowed hard, unnerved by her intense gaze.

"I can't take advantage of you like this. You're just upset. You don't know what you want."

She commanded his attention, sitting up slightly and resting on her elbow.

"I know what I want," she said, emphasizing each word.

Chuck couldn't believe what he was hearing. His mind was racing. He was having trouble making sense of anything. Was the trauma of the night making her reckless or honest?

"What do you want?" He asked, nervous for her answer, but grateful that after months of mixed signals and miscommunication, they were finally having an honest conversation.

Sarah looked intently down at him, collecting her words.

"I want this," she said finally. "I want _you_."

She bent down slowly, pausing momentarily just before her lips reached his. She waited for him to protest, but when he offered no resistance, she gently touched her lips to his. The kiss was short and gentle, but Chuck felt as if he each nerve in his body was on fire.

Sarah leaned back onto the bed, suddenly appearing very vulnerable. Her blue eyes searched his for an answer. He knew it was his choice—he could do the safe thing and tell her it wasn't the right time, or he could follow his heart and take her in his arms as he had longed to do every day since he met her.

He looked into her fragile blue eyes, and saw a look in them he had never seen before tonight. He came to the sudden realization that what he was seeing was complete vulnerability and honesty. She was being completely open and truthful with him, probably for the first time since he had known her.

How could he not be just as open and honest as she? He didn't want to analyze anything any more. He didn't want to weigh his options or worry about ramifications of his actions. He was tired of playing games. He wasn't going to deny what he felt.

"I want you, too," he said, quietly.

They stared at each other for a moment. Chuck was terrified of what he said, but even more terrified of what he was about to do. He sat up on his elbow, hesitating for a moment as a spat of insecurity gripped his heart. A small voice in his head questioned whether she really wanted _him_ or whether he was just the convenient body closest to her.

But he forced himself to push these fears out of his mind. He slowly leaned forward, panicking as he closed the distance between them. He felt her breath. There was nothing left to do but take the plunge. He kissed her hesitantly.

Despite everything, he was still amazed that she kissed him back. She had parted his lips with her own, and their kiss deepened. His doubts and fears seemed to melt away as she reached up and ran her fingers through his brown curls. Breaking off their kiss, he needed to run his lips down her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders. He had longed to love every inch of her for so long that he felt like his mind was barely registering this as a reality.

He was kissing her again, intensely this time. She sat up slowly and ran her hands up his back as she peeled his t-shirt away. She rolled him onto his back as she slipped out of her shirt. Suddenly, there were no barriers left between them at all.

--

Chuck felt himself in that dreamlike state fading between wakefulness and sleep. He couldn't fight the dopey smile that was spread across his face as he reached his arm out for her. His hand explored the wrinkled sheets until it found a warm body, but the fuzzy fur was not what he expected. He opened his eyes slowly and found a pair of dark, soulful eyes staring at him. Lucky's tail wagged in anticipation of his morning walk.

Chuck groaned and looked around the room for signs of Sarah. He heard the shower running and fell back into bed. The idea of slowly waking up with her in his arms was alluring, but he wasn't too disappointed. Maybe he could convince her to come back to bed when she got out of the shower. His mind wondered sleepily as he envisioned it--she would just be in a small towel, and he would take her by the waist and she would fall into bed and they would make love for hours. They didn't need to get on the road right away. He could take another day off of work and they could just spend the rest of the day in the hotel room in the middle of nowhere.

He stretched his arms and was still smiling lazily when she stepped out of the bathroom. She was already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and had thrown her wet hair into a ponytail. He sat up in bed, admiring her. Chuck didn't think he had ever seen anyone so beautiful.

"Hey," he said, his voice still filled with sleep. "Why don't you come back to bed for a little while?"

He patted the bed next to him suggestively, and raised his eyebrows several times in a humorous manner.

"Oh," Sarah responded curtly, her eyes scanning the room, looking everywhere but at him. "Actually, I think we better get going soon. Its almost check-out time."

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown at him; her cool response woke Chuck out of his post-coital bliss.

"I was going to take Lucky for a walk," Sarah continued, "and then grab us some breakfast at the bakery across the street, okay? If you get into the shower now, we can be on the road by eleven."

With that, she grabbed Lucky's leash and her wallet. The dog eagerly joined her at the door, and before Chuck could even register what she had said, she was gone. He fell back into bed, shocked at what had just happened. Here he was, barely touching the ground after the most mind-blowing night of his life, and she couldn't even look at him.

--

She closed the hotel door securely behind her, and immediately leaned up against it, her hands shaking too hard to hold Lucky's leash securely. She quickly put her sunglasses on, hoping to block her eyes from the harsh daylight and to also prevent anyone from seeing the tears as they welled up and spilled down her cheeks.

What had she done? His looked so incredible this morning—so happy, so hopeful, so trusting, so open. And in twenty seconds, she crushed him. She would never forget the hurt she saw in his face. She didn't know if she could ever forgive herself for causing that pain.

--

After a shower, he violently threw the last of his clothes into his bag. It had been a half an hour, and she hadn't yet returned. He paced around the small room for another minute, his thoughts wild. He finally peeked out the curtains into the parking lot, and was shocked to see her out there. She was sitting on the hood of her car, alternating between eating her muffin and feeding bites of it to Lucky. There was something about the way she was just casually bobbing her legs against the side of the car that made him want to strangle her. He suddenly hated himself. He couldn't believe he had actually thought she cared about him. He suddenly hated her. He hated her because she was too much of a coward to face him and tell him that last night meant nothing to her. He hated her because last night had meant nothing to her.

He furiously grabbed both of their bags and stormed out of the room.

--

She looked up in surprise as he approached the car.

"Oh, hey, I was just going to come in and help—"

"I've got it. Lets go," he said loudly, interrupting her as he threw the bags into the trunk. He opened the back seat, but the dog didn't immediately jump in. Chuck only waited a moment before his temper reached the boiling point.

"GET IN LUCKY," he yelled at the dog in frustration.

The dog was intimidated by Chuck's tone of voice and stayed by Sarah's feet.

"Fine, stay here. I don't fucking care," he said bitterly while avoiding Sarah's eyes.

He got into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, leaving Sarah and Lucky standing outside. Sarah was shocked, her mouth slightly agape. She had never seen him so angry. She nervously tucked a phantom hair behind her ear and grabbed Lucky's leash with a shaking hand. She walked over to the passenger door, but instead of guiding Lucky into the back seat, she sat down first and had Lucky jump into her lap.

"What are you doing? He's too big for the front seat," Chuck said, still speaking in an accusing tone.

"He's fine," Sarah said, despite the fact that Lucky was taking up most of the room. His tail wagged furiously, obviously disrupting Chuck as he tried to shift gears.

"You don't even like dogs. Just put him in the back so I can drive in peace."

"Just give it up, okay?"

She could hear the emotion start to rise in her voice. She had no response to him, she just needed some sort of physical barrier between her and Chuck. She turned her head away from Chuck as she buried her face in the dog's gray fur, hoping that it would dry her tears as they silently slid down her cheeks.

As they drove, Sarah could feel the tension in the car ratchet up with each mile. She knew why she had done what she had done the night before. She just had no idea why she couldn't face it this morning.


	12. Chapter 12

The car was heavy with their silence. They hadn't said a word to each other for an hour, since Sarah had tried to warn him about a tire tread in the road and he snapped at her. The random music pouring from Chuck's ipod was the only thing keeping Chuck sane. He tried to concentrate on the words to distract himself from her presence, but some songs seemed to have the opposite effect.

A familiar song started--_Lies_, by Glen Hansard. Chuck felt his heart begin to race as he recognized himself in the lyrics. The first verse was a sad, almost pathetic plea for self preservation.

_I think it's time, we give it up  
__And figure out what's stopping us  
__From breathing easy, and talking straight  
__The way is clear if you're ready now  
__The volunteer is slowing down  
__And taking time to save himself_

The mood of the song soon changed as Hansard's voice became filled with accusations and pain. Chuck felt a visceral response to the song, and hoped Sarah felt the same. Who knew, perhaps she was too cold and shut off for such emotions to even begin to register.

_The little cracks they escalated  
__And before you know it is too late  
__For making circles and telling lies_

Chuck felt his anger boil to the surface again. Lies. She had done nothing but tell him lies this whole time. He quickly reached forward and turned the volume up. He knew it was immature, but he didn't care. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah wince. Her reaction gave him a momentary swell of satisfaction. He wanted her to hear the lyrics. He wanted her to hear the passion and the pain in Hansard's voice and to know that she had ripped his heart in two.

_You're moving too fast for me  
__And I can't keep up with you  
__Maybe if you slowed down for me  
__I could see you're only telling  
__Lies, lies, lies  
__Breaking us down with your  
__Lies, lies, lies  
__When will you learn_

The song seemed to have the desired effect on Sarah. She appeared shaken. Good. He felt another surge of venom course through his veins. Without thinking, he pressed the fast-forward button on his ipod, skipping forward three songs to the only song more brutal than his previous selection, _Leave._

_I hope you feel better  
__Now that it's out  
__What took you so long_

He turned up the volume again as Hansard's voice moved from melancholy to embittered.

_And the truth has a habit  
__Of falling out of your mouth  
__Now that it's come  
__If you don't mind  
__Leave, leave,  
__And please yourself at the same time  
__Leave, leave,  
__Let go of my hand  
__You said what you have to now  
__Leave, leave_

The music moved from passionate to enraged, and Hansard was practically screaming the last line when Sarah abruptly turned the music off. The words seemed to echo in the suddenly silent car. Neither said another word.

* * *

He rubbed his tired eyes as he exited the motel office. He had hoped to be able to just drive through the night. His anger had fueled him for the last several silent hours, but eventually he had to admit he could go no further. Sarah was useless, he thought bitterly, as she either slept or feigned sleep through most of the rest of the day.

She got out of the car and was walking back towards him with Lucky close by her side. Her sudden attachment to the dog infuriated him. Lucky was _his_ dog. She was going to just send him to the pound. She didn't even like dogs.

"I'll take him for his walk," he said gruffly, grabbing the leash with a little too much force.

Sarah winced, but her face remained calm, as it had all day. As usual, he had no idea what she was thinking. He hated her. Couldn't she react to him, just once?

"Here," he said, tossing her a key. "Room 107. See you tomorrow." There was a bitter edge to his voice, but he didn't try to hide it. He took a twisted type of enjoyment in seeing her surprised expression.

"Tomorrow?" Her voice was strained.

'I'll be in 109," he said as he quickly walked into his motel room. Just as he shut the door behind him, he caught a glance of her face as she stood in the parking lot. For once, he could read her perfectly. He thought the hurt and betrayal he saw in her eyes would make him feel better, but in fact, it made him feel much, much worse.

He tried to push the memory of her pained blue eyes out of his mind as he looked around the dingy motel room. A shower would help clear his mind.

He hopped into the shower and allowed the water to flow over his face. He hoped to somehow erase the last 24 hours from his mind, but he couldn't. They couldn't go back to what they were before. And he didn't want to.

Looking back at it, it had been a dysfunctional relationship since the day that they had met. She had all of the power; she made all of the calls. He just waited around for her to tell him what to do. Even this trip—she had just asked him to take a week off of work with no explanations. He had agreed without hesitation. Pathetic.

He was done being led around by the nose. She had told him some vital information this week. His life was in danger, and he was just waiting around for her to come up with a plan to save him. No more. He hadn't chosen this life, but it was his life now, and he had to take charge of it.

As he shampooed his hair, he tried to come up with a plan. Weeks earlier, at the helipad, he had told Sarah he wasn't ready to leave yet. And he wasn't--he needed to say good-bye to his sister. He had to explain to her why he was going and that he would be safe. But now he had time to plan. He could leave, but it was going to be on his terms.

Once he accepted the inevitability of the situation, he knew he needed to figure out how to elude both the CIA and the NSA for the next few years. Sarah would know how to do that, but she wasn't an option anymore. He wracked his brain, trying to think of a plan. He needed to go somewhere no one would suspect. Did he know anyone he could trust completely? Everyone he could think of would already be on the CIA's radar. It couldn't be anyone Ellie or Morgan would know—he couldn't put them in the position of protecting him. He needed to think of someone that couldn't be traced back to him by anyone.

As he rinsed his hair, the soap ran over his eyes and the solution suddenly hit him. Frosty. He could still remember his friend as a skinny twelve year-old kid, standing over the sink with his head under the faucet. Their bunkmates at Camp Paradox Lake had decided to pick on the awkward kid in the cowboy boots and had dyed his hair blonde while he was sleeping. Chuck had felt awful. He saw what they were doing, but he was too afraid to stand up to them, knowing that he would be the next target of their bullying. The next morning, while all of the other kids were out at activities, the computer geek teamed up with the hick from Wyoming to try to rinse the peroxide out of his hair. Unfortunately, the dye stuck and so did the nickname Frosty.

They had bonded over their outsider status, and despite the miserable beginning of their summer, they ended up having a great time. They were bunkmates for the next few years until they became counselors when they turned sixteen. Chuck hadn't seen Frosty since the summer before they went to college, but they had kept in touch sporadically. That's what made him perfect. They talked on the phone maybe twice a year—not enough to catch the CIA's attention if they looked at his phone records. He didn't even know if he had Frosty's email address on his computer. Neither Morgan nor Ellie had ever met him, and they probably didn't even realize that they still kept in touch. But the best part was his nickname. It was so engrained that it took Chuck a moment to remember Frosty's real name. Even if the CIA questioned Ellie and she remembered Chuck's old friend from camp, she would never have heard Chuck refer to him as David Parsons.

They hadn't talked in a long time, but Chuck knew he could count on him. Once Chuck was kicked out of Stanford, Frosty offered him a job every year. He always declined, but he knew he could find refuge there.

The matter settled in his mind, he suddenly felt ten times lighter. Sarah Walker would soon be a memory, and he would have to be his own savior.

* * *

As he toweled off, he heard knocking at the door. He sighed—Sarah. He quickly threw on some clothes and answered the door. Her eyes were bloodshot, but her steady gaze unnerved him. He made himself recall his anger and resolve from earlier in the night. He wouldn't let her manipulate him again.

"We need to talk," she said, and walked into the room without waiting for his response. He closed the door behind her.

"What do you want?" He tried to put an edge in his voice, but he just sounded tired. He wasn't sure if the fatigue in his voice was from the late hour or just from the sight of her.

"We need to talk about last night," she said.

"No we don't," he responded harshly.

"Yes, we do."

"Actually, I'd rather talk about this morning," he said, the accusatory tone evident in his voice.

A guilty look crossed her face. "Yes," she said, "I guess we should talk about that too."

He folded his arms across his chest, but didn't respond. The silence filled the room.

"I'm sorry," she finally blurted out.

"For what?" He wasn't going to let her get out of things so easily.

"For treating you poorly. I just didn't know how to react. You know I'm not very good at . . . communication."

He snorted sarcastically.

She tried to ignore his reaction. "I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you this morning."

Her bowed head did nothing to lessen Chuck's anger. The hate that had been brewing in his chest all day suddenly bubbled up uncontrollably.

"Sarah, next time you need to blow off a little steam, just run down to the neighborhood bar and pick some random guy off the dance floor, okay," he shouted bitterly, "because I really can't take any more of this. I actually thought last night meant something to you."

"Blow off steam?" She was screaming now, too. "Blow off steam? Is that really what you think it was about?"

"What else would it be about? You've rejected me a thousand times, then you have one bad night and expect me to be at your beck and call, no strings attached? Sorry Sarah, I don't work that way. Unlike you, I can't turn my emotions on and off like a fucking robot."

His words stung, he could tell.

"Don't you _ever_ accuse me of being unfeeling," she shouted. "You have _no idea_ how hard this is for me." For a moment, it looked like she was about to slap him. Instead, she dropped her hands by her sides in defeat. "Do you really think I could do that to you, just use you like that?" The anger was suddenly gone from her voice.

He didn't respond.

"Of course you do. Why wouldn't you?" She asked the question quietly, almost to herself. "Chuck, I know I've asked you to trust me more than I have a right to, but I'm going to have to ask you again to trust me, to believe me when I say that I would never intentionally hurt you."

"Really, Sarah?" He didn't try to disguise the hurt in his voice. "Then why would you come on to me like that? You knew how I felt about you. And why couldn't you say two words to me this morning? If it meant nothing to you, why couldn't you just be an adult and admit you made a mistake?"

She took a deep breath and sank slowly onto the bed next to her. She needed to steady herself as Chuck glared down at her.

"Chuck," she said, her voice sounding strangled, "last night meant everything to me, and not because I was upset and needed comfort. It meant everything to me . . . because _you_ mean everything to me. Everything." Her blue eyes started to pool with tears as Chuck struggled to make sense out of what he was hearing. "And I couldn't face you the next morning because I felt like I could never be good enough for you. You deserve someone so much more than me."

Chuck swallowed hard, his anger suddenly dropping to the pit of his stomach. He sank down onto the bed next to her, his legs feeling to weak to support his weight.

"I don't understand."

"Chuck, there are parts of me you can't understand, things that I have done that sicken me. With each shot I take, every person I kill, I die a little bit. And sometimes I think that I've gone too far, that too much of me is gone. And that scares me. But today I realized that there is something that scares me even more, which is losing you forever. I know that I've torn off too many pieces of my heart for it to be worth much, but it's all I can offer you. Whatever's left is yours now."

"I . . ." his voice drifted off. He had no response to her. Her words were still buzzing around in his head as he tried to make sense of it all. She was telling him that she loved him. But she had lied to him before.

He searched her face for a sign. He told himself that he couldn't trust her words, but he hoped he could trust her eyes. Her eyes locked on his, and all he saw shining back at him in those blue eyes was love, love and honesty. He was unable to stop himself. His lips on hers were hesitant--he couldn't quite forget what had happened before. But as she leaned forward towards him, all of his doubts began to crumble. She pressed tighter to him and her hands ran up his chest and behind his neck. His hands traveled along her arms and ribs and finally settled on her hips, keeping her close to him.

They broke apart momentarily, their breath mingling between them. Her eyes searched his gaze just had her hands had explored his body moments before. Neither said anything.

"I'm leaving the CIA," Sarah said finally. "I can't do it any more. I'm a different person now. You've made me a different person. "

Chuck's fingers traced her knuckles gently, taking in the magnitude of what she just said. "I'm leaving, too," he said after a moment, giving her a charming smile and a small laugh. "See, there's this intra-agency conspiracy to put a bullet in my head, so . . . I thought I might take a vacation."

Chuck's words made Sarah laugh, but her expression soon became serious.

"I can't do this on my own," she said, her voice husky with emotion.

"Sarah, you're the expert here, you can do anything."

"Not this. I can't survive without you," she said quietly, breaking Chuck's gaze as she stared at her hands in his.

"Hey," Chuck said gently, tipping her chin up with his thumb, "we're in this thing together, remember?"

She met his eyes again and nodded. Their conversation in the darkened tent in Moab had never left her mind. The memory of how he had looked next to her that night came flooding back to her. She had felt so safe in his arms that night. The thought of never being in those arms again made her shudder, and she briefly brought her lips to his again.

"We're in this thing together," she whispered.

There was another moment of silence as they were locked in one another's eyes, the weight of their declaration settling pleasantly on their shoulders.

"What are we going to do?" she finally asked.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course," she said, giving him a questioning look.

"I think I have a plan. But I have one question for you."

"Anything."

He gave her his trademarked lopsided grin. "How do you feel about cowboys?"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness. A divine thought tumbled around in his brain, but he couldn't quite get a hold of it. Then it came to him—Sarah. She had come to him last night. A sudden fear gripped his heart. If he opened his eyes, and she wasn't there, again, he didn't know if he could take it. He fought the urge for a moment, but finally gathered the courage to open his eyes slowly. The bright sunlight streamed in through the flimsy curtains and he was momentarily blinded. He finally was able to focus, and to his utter relief, he saw her blonde hair cascading down her milky white back.

He inched his way closer to her, surprised as he realized that he throughout the trip, she he never slept in before. He thought she was never comfortable sleeping in strange place. Grateful for this gift, he wrapped his arm around her side, and was filled with ecstasy as she took his hand and wrapped it around her tightly. Whatever doubts were present were erased by her small sigh of contentment.

They lay there for a few minutes, Chuck taking in every detail of her body. He slowly began tracing his fingers up and down her arm, stopping with curiosity at her shoulder. He lightly drew his thumb up and down the smooth skin of a long scar dividing her shoulder blade. He wondered how she had gotten it, but he knew better than to ask about her history.

As if reading his mind, she started talking. "That was from a knife fight in Brazil. I let my guard down during an undercover assignment, and my mark stabbed me in the back, literally. I had to go to a shady clinic to get sown up. They did a sloppy job."

He was shocked by the gift of unsolicited information. After a moment, he realized that she was probably offering him the information as evidence of her sincerity--a demonstration that she loved him. He shook his head lightly; she had dealt with too many cynical and suspicious people. She didn't need to prove anything to him. He didn't need her to prove what he felt when he held her in his arms.

"You don't need to . . ."

"I want to," she said, interrupting him. "I want you to know me."

He let his hand run down her side until he reached another round scar above her hip.

"Gunshot. I was trying to protect my partner, but he didn't make it," her voice was calm, but he heard regret in her voice.

His hand traveled down further, coming to rest on one more scar, a long-healed gash above her Achilles' tendon.

"What's this one from?"

She was silent for a moment. "My father and I had a fight in the kitchen. He had a knife. It was an accident."

He kissed her shoulder softly. He wished he could kiss away her scars--her pain--but he knew he couldn't. He could, however, make it his life's mission to make sure she never felt that pain again.

xoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Sarah opened the door to her apartment and greeted him with a long kiss. A shiver went down his spine. It had been a week, but he still hadn't gotten used to the fact that their relationship was no longer a lie.

"I brought food," he said, handing her bag of takeout.

"Great, I'm starving. I'm working on our new I.D.s. I'm already done with mine, I just have a few questions about yours and then we can eat," she said, jumping back onto her bed and pulling her laptop forward.

"Ask away," he said, crawling behind her on the bed so that he could get a view of the laptop. A Photoshop program was open, and he saw his photograph on a blank driver's license from Wyoming. He wrapped his legs around her, and she leaned back against his chest.

"What name do you want to use?"

"Whew, that's a biggie. I guess Charles Carmichael is too obvious?"

"Way too obvious."

"What about Mal Adama? Or Starbuck Reynolds?"

Sarah looked at him with amusement. "No and no. No one from Battlestar or Firefly or any other movie."

Chuck laughed. "I'm surprised you picked up on those."

"Starbuck? You kind of gave it away there."

"Okay, okay, you got me. Any suggestions?"

"Well, like I said before, your new identity should be something similar enough to your real self that you feel totally comfortable with it, but also different enough that it wouldn't catch the attention of anyone looking for you. Like when I first met you, I went from Susannah Weaver to Sarah Walker. Similar, but not too similar."

"So you said you had already finished yours. What did you pick?"

Looking down, he didn't have a good view of her face, but he thought he saw her blush for a moment. She didn't say anything, but instead opened up another window containing her new driver's license. There was a picture of Sarah next to the words "Sarah Charlotte Irving."

"Irving, huh? It doesn't sound much like Walker or Weaver to me."

She was definitely blushing now. "Well, I like Sarah, and it's a common enough name. I was going to take Bartowski as a last name, but it's a little too unusual to blend in with the crowd. Your middle name could easily pass as a last name, though."

"Wait, you were going to take Bartwoski?" He couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.

"It just felt right," she said, giving a small shrug.

Chuck wished she wasn't facing away from him so that he could see her full reaction. He could tell she was uncomfortable with the conversation, so he didn't push her further. He did wrap his arms around her waist held her tight, though. They sat quietly a moment, as Chuck's thoughts wandered deliciously around the idea of sharing his name with her.

"Can I keep Chuck then?"

"Chuck might be a little inconspicuous. Charles or Charlie would be okay, though."

"I've got nothing against Charlie. Charles Adama Walker rolls off the tongue, don't you think?"

"Mmm," she mumbled as she typed the words into the program. Evidently his choice to take Walker as his last name unnerved her enough that she didn't even notice he had slipped a Battlestar name into the mix.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Most of the logistics had been taken care of. They had done their best to not raise any suspicion, especially from Casey, but it was difficult after their week-long absence. He hadn't bought Sarah's story of a wedding in Seattle at all. He had tried to follow them out of town, but Sarah had lost him in traffic before they left Los Angeles. He was still bitter, and since they had returned, Casey was watching them both like a hawk.

Sarah had taken care of their identities, although the fact that she couldn't use any CIA resources meant that their covers were pretty rudimentary. She had secured a beat-up old truck from some junkie in East L.A. According to Sarah, junkies were ideal to work with—they wanted cash, asked no questions, and didn't notice when you took off with their license plates. Chuck had spoken to Frosty on a pay phone and arranged everything with him.

The only thing left to do was to talk to Morgan and Ellie. Chuck had expected Sarah to put up a fight when he told her that he planned to talk to them, but she had agreed with him immediately. Her visit to Green Bay had forced her to accept the fact that she had made a mistake five years ago. There was nothing worth the torture that she had caused her family or herself, and she wouldn't wish that pain on Ellie or Chuck. They had decided that Ellie and Devon could be told the truth, but they weren't sure they could trust Morgan with that kind of information.

Chuck took Morgan aside the day before they were scheduled to leave. He told him that while doing some Nerd Herd work for a company, he had found some information implicating its president in a complex money laundering scheme. He was going to be the star witness in the case, but the authorities were putting him in a witness protection program. At first, Morgan didn't believe it, but when he saw the sorrow and resignation in his friend's eyes, he knew it was true.

The conversation had been more difficult with Ellie. They waited until Casey was at a briefing, and Chuck and Sarah brought Ellie and Devon out to a quiet spot on the beach. They told them everything—what the Intersect was, who Sarah, Bryce and Casey really were, how Sarah and Chuck's relationship had evolved, and finally about the impending termination order. Ellie and Devon's reactions ranged from incredulous to angry and then worried, and finally, when Chuck revealed that they had to leave for good, heartbroken.

"I'm so sorry, Elle, I'm not going to be able to walk you down the aisle," Chuck said softly, hugging his sister. Sarah saw the pain in his eyes and immediately hated Bryce for cursing Chuck with this burden. He didn't deserve this, but there was no other way.

"Chuck, I don't care about that. I just can't imagine my life without you," Ellie said, her voice jagged with tears. "How will I know you're okay? What if something happens to you?"

"Nothing is going to happen to me. I've got the CIA's best assassin protecting me. And I'll check in with you periodically, okay?"

"How? You said yourself, the CIA is going to be all over me, trying to find out where you are."

"I know. It's just important to not do anything too out of the ordinary, or to set any new patterns all of the sudden. I'll send you things randomly. They'll be postmarked from different places, and always be from different people, but they'll have a codeword."

"Codeword?"

"Yeah, just an innocent word, but when you see it, you'll know its me and I'm okay."

"God, I feel like I'm in some crazy spy movie," Devon said, slowly shaking his head back and forth.

"Now you know how I've been feeling for the last year. Our code word will be 'pancakes,' okay?"

"Pancakes?"

"Yeah, you know, like Devon makes us every Saturday morning. And another thing, I know you like to chat about Lost on Television Without Pity, right?"

Ellie looked confused, but nodded.

"Well, if you suddenly see a new poster called 'Pancakes' who likes to discuss conspiracy theories, maybe you should strike up an absolutely superficial, strictly Lost-related cyber-friendship with that poster."

Ellie smiled through her tears and hugged her brother again.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The sun had just began to creep into the morning sky as Chuck zipped his bag up for the last time. Casey was sound asleep under the influence of a heavy sedative that Ellie had slipped into her famous chocolate chip cookies.

Ellie was sobbing as she said her final goodbye to Sarah.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of him. I promise," Sarah's voice was shaking as they embraced.

Devon rubbed Ellie's back as she turned away from Sarah and looked hopelessly at her brother. Chuck struggled against tears as he pushed the lump in the back of his throat down. Devon took Sarah's last bag in his arm, and the pair stepped towards the truck to give the siblings privacy.

Ellie ran into Chuck's outstretched arms, and as her tears wet his t-shirt, his tears fell freely down his cheeks.

"I love you Ellie. You are my family, and I'll see you again soon," he said, trying to calm his voice.

"I love you too," she said through her tears. "Promise me you'll be safe."

"I promise I'll be safe. I promise I'll come back."

The siblings embraced for another moment, but the sun was rising steadily. It was time to leave.

Chuck fought tears as he threw his last bag into the bed of the beat-up yellow pick-up truck. His legs didn't seem to be able to move as he walked towards the front of the truck. He longed to crawl back into the house, safe and sound and surrounded by his sister and his friends. But he knew it wasn't safe and sound. He had to leave.

He put a brave face on for Sarah as he opened the truck door. Lucky bounded up into the seat ahead of him, ready for another cross-country adventure. Chuck gripped the door handle and hoisted himself up into the cab of the truck. Sarah was already in the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors. She looked at him, and her blue eyes told him that she understood exactly what he was feeling.

"I know this is going to be hard, but we're in this thing together, okay? You'll always have me."

"You and me. Always," he said, giving her a small smile.

She started up the loud engine and the gears grinded painfully as they pulled away into the sunrise.

"Speaking of," he said, his smile turning mischievous as he pulled out his ipod. "You know I love a good duet to start out a road trip."

He punched in a song, and she groaned as the familiar chords filled the truck. He began singing as off-key as possible:

"They say we're young and we don't know  
won't find out until we grow.   
Well I don't know maybe that's true    
'cause you got me and Babe I got you." 

Charlie Walker laughed as Sarah Irving joined in on the chorus, filling in all of the instrumental parts.

"Babe ('doo-doo, doo-doo-doo')  
I got you babe ('doo-doo, doo-doo-doo')  
I got you babe ('doo-doo, doo-doo-doo')"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

_A/N: Epilogue Still To Come._


	13. Chapter 13

**Two and A Half Years Later…**

Ellie clutched the wrinkled sheet of paper in her shaking hands, reading it over for the thousandth time since it had arrived in the mail four weeks earlier.

The envelope had immediately caught her attention—the return address was a P.O. Box in Milwaukee. She didn't know anyone in Wisconsin. Her breath caught as it had each time she had received a piece of unknown mail. It had to be from Chuck.

The first letter arrived two months after Chuck and Sarah left. It had a postmark from Atlanta, and was from someone named "Ben Sawyer." The short note indicated that he was old friend from college, but Ellie recognized Chuck's handwriting. "Ben" reminisced about old times and the stories from their youth, including their tradition of Sunday morning pancake breakfasts, made her weep for her lost brother. Two months later, it was a generic postcard from "Aunt Mary" who raved about the beautiful B&B she was staying at in San Francisco and the delicious breakfast she had eaten that morning. The mail arrived every seven or eight weeks and was always postmarked from a different region of the country. The knowledge that he was happy and safe was enough to get her through, even though she her heart ached with sadness.

The wedding had been tough. She had never been so torn in her life. She was ecstatic when she saw Devon waiting for her at the altar, but the fact that she walked down the aisle alone instead of with her brother prevented her from truly enjoying the moment. Originally, she had held out hope that he would sneak into the ceremony, but the sight of four government agents circling the reception hall made her thankful that he hadn't tried anything stupid.

Three months ago she had received a note from her "godmother" in Maine who included a recipe for her famous blueberry pancakes, but the mail had been filled with bills and junk ever since. They had agreed to only send each other two online messages a month in order to avoid suspicion, as Ellie's computer was surely being monitored. He hadn't responded to her message in two weeks, however, so the mystery envelope was a welcome sight. She tried to ignore thoughts of a time when the messages ceased all together, but sometimes her fears took over.

She gratefully ripped the envelope open, and was surprised to find a typewritten letter on official letterhead. The logo was the silhouette of a cowboy, complete with chaps and spurs, sitting on a fence, accompanied by the words "Lazy H Ranch, Come Ride With the Best!"

As she read the letter, her heart began to sink. She chastised herself for jumping to the conclusion that it was from Chuck, but her confusion grew.

_Dear Dr. Bartowski_,

_Thank you for contacting us about our wonderful guest ranch in the heart of Wyoming's Shoshone National Forest! We write this letter to confirm the reservations for you and your husband from September 17__th__ through the 20__th__. We have a lovely cabin set aside just for you!_

Had Devon made vacation plans without telling her? Was this a surprise? But why was it addressed to _her_ if Devon made the reservations? Something didn't add up . . . what if . . . ? Suddenly her head started to swim. The ranch was in Wyoming, but it had been postmarked in Wisconsin. Devon hadn't done this. It was a message from her brother.

_We know you will enjoy your fall getaway! Our ranch offers many activities, including horseback riding, fly fishing, evenings at the rodeo, and nightly bonfires featuring the musical stylings of our talented staff. We even offer an overnight trail ride! After a day-long ride up __Ptarmigan Mountain__, enjoy eating a dinner of cowboy chili and biscuits from a real chuckwagon. Get ready to spend a night under the stars, and then our wranglers will fix you a gourmet breakfast, including steak, eggs, biscuits and pancakes. For our younger guests, we offer . . ._

The letter went on with more details, but Ellie couldn't read any more. She was shaking. She desperately wanted to call Devon, but the phone had been tapped long ago. She knew what this meant. She would see Chuck in less than a month.

The excitement she had felt at that moment didn't compare to the butterflies she felt now that they were just miles away. Anticipation was mixing with exhaustion, and she found she could barely sit still in the passenger seat. They had been driving their friend's car for the last two days. Over the last two and a half years, they had become very knowledgeable in the ways of the CIA and NSA. Plane tickets would reveal their location in a heartbeat, especially since they were now on a terror alert watch list. The CIA would know where they were going before the plane left the ground. Devon had found tracking devices on both of their cars last year. Rather than trying to disable it, they had borrowed a very understanding friend's car.

As the road wound through the dense trees and tall, craggy ridges, Ellie thought to herself that it was the perfect place to escape to. In the winter, the roads were probably impassable. They passed through Wapiti, a town that seemed to consist of one building holding both the post office and a bar, along with one house, presumably belonging to the post master slash bartender. Other than that, they didn't see any evidence of civilization. _The more isolated the better_, thought Ellie.

"It'll be right around here, babe," Devon said, obviously trying to soothe Ellie's frayed nerves as she read the directions over and over. "It should be six miles past Wapiti . . ."

"There, I see it!" Ellie cried out, pointing to the wooden sign branded with the words "Lazy H Ranch" above the same cowboy's silhouette from the letterhead in her hands. They turned and drove up a long winding road along a babbling brook until they came to the ranch. Devon parked the car in front of the main lodge and they surveyed the situation.

The lodge was built in the style of a large log cabin and seemed to house some guest rooms, a large main room, and a restaurant. Next to it was a grassy lawn that seemed to be the center of guest activity. A wrangler was teaching a couple in clean starched jeans how to rope a cow using a sawhorse, while a man attempted to play a game of horseshoes with two young children. Several guests were resting on the patio, and two more guests lay in a hammock by the stream, perfectly relaxed as they read their books.

Ellie couldn't relax, though. Where was Chuck? Her eyes frantically scanned the ranch further. Beyond the lodge there were perhaps a dozen private cabins, presumably additional guest accommodations. Next to the stream stood a stable and large corral filled with horses. A group of guests were leaving on a trail ride, and two wranglers were standing next to a large horse while gesturing animatedly towards his rear right leg. Ellie had hoped Chuck would be there to great them. She realized that they were going to have to ask someone for him, but she had no idea who she should ask for.

A wiry man in a faded button down shirt and a well-worn cowboy hat walked towards them.

"Welcome to the Lazy H! My name is Brian. Can I help you?"

Devon shook Brian's hand as he cleared his throat. "Sure, we're here to check in, but we're also looking for someone."

"You're in luck, I know everyone," Brian said. "Staff or guest?"

One glance at Ellie revealed that she was unsure of the answer as well. "Um . . . staff," he said, his voice rising into a question.

Brian looked at Devon strangely, but didn't say anything. "Okay, what's the name?"

Ellie and Devon exchanged the same perplexed glance. "Um . . . Chuck?" Devon definitely phrased it as a question this time.

Brian wrinkled his nose in thought. "Chuck? Oh wait, do you mean Charlie?"

"Yes!" Ellie said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. "Charlie. I'm his sister."

"Of course! He said you were coming in today." Brian turned to face the corral as he raised his voice to a gruff bark. "Walker! Hey Walker, someone's here to see you."

Ellie and Devon whipped around and looked at the corral. The taller of the two cowboys was bent over and was supporting the large horse's bent knee on his thigh as he and his colleague examined the animal's rear hoof. At the sound of his name, his head snapped up and he stared at the couple for a moment, frozen.

Suddenly he dropped the horse's leg and stood up. "Ellie!"

Ellie started to run towards him, and before she knew it, she was in his arms, tears running freely down her cheeks. They joyfully embraced until Devon came up behind them and enveloped them in a three-person hug, and suddenly all three of them were laughing.

As they detangled themselves, Ellie wiped the tears from her eyes and took in the sight of the man in front of her for the first time. He looked so . . . grown up. He had easily gained twenty pounds of muscle, and his chest and shoulders were so much broader than she remembered. He even seemed to stand taller, but perhaps that was just the effect of the well-worn cowboy boots adorning his feet. He was wearing a pair of dusty jeans and a faded button-down shirt. His hair looked shorter, but it was tough to tell under his beat-up old Stetson. His eyes were just as bright and lively as always, though, and the enormity of how much she had truly missed him over these last two years hit her. She had no idea what to say.

They stood quietly staring at one another, until all three burst forth with questions simultaneously.

"How was the wedding? How is Morgan? How did you get here?" Chuck looked at the couple's car nervously.

"Are you really a cowboy? That is seriously awesome. Look at those muscles," Devon said as he admired his brother-in-law's new physique.

"Is everything okay? Are you safe?" Ellie's question voiced the concern she had been fighting since she got his letter.

Chuck saw the alarm in her eyes and immediately soothed her. "Don't worry, sis. Everything's okay. We just wanted to see you."

Ellie smiled, her fears assuaged. "Where's Sarah?" she asked, her eyes surveying the ranch.

"They just went into town to get a few things. She should be back any minute. Now tell me everything about your life, starting with the wedding."

Ellie smiled and began to fill Chuck in on all of the details she had longed to share with him for so long. Devon was just finishing telling the story about how their cousin Eileen's tube top had fallen down while she was doing the YMCA at the reception when the growl of a loud engine broke the peaceful silence of the ranch. A familiar beat-up yellow truck with a bed full of hay bales rounded the corner, its gears grinding to a painful stop a few feet from the group.

A short brunette jumped out of the passenger seat, but she hung back behind the truck when she saw the group. The driver's side door opened, and a fuzzy gray dog leaped to the ground, running immediately to his master.

"Lucky!" cried Ellie, leaning down to kiss the dog that had lived with them for a week. She stood up in time to see a tall woman wearing a loose, checkered blouse and faded jeans step gingerly out of the driver's seat. Her hair was darker, but she was unmistakable. "Sarah!"

Ellie ran towards her and embraced her tightly, the tears flowing once again.

Chuck started laughing behind the women. "Careful, don't crush her!"

"I'm sorry," Ellie said, standing back but still gripping Sarah's hands in hers. "I just can't believe I'm here with the both of you!"

"We can't believe it, either," Chuck said, crooking his arm around his sister's shoulders and kissing the top of her head. "There's someone else I want to introduce you to."

He gestured to the woman hanging back behind the truck, and she shyly walked towards the group. "Ellie, this is Sarah's cousin, Emily."

"Its so wonderful to meet you," Ellie practically squealed, her excitement getting the best of her as she squeezed the brunette.

Emily looked shocked at the reception, but enthusiastically hugged Ellie back.

"And this," Chuck said, gesturing to a tall man who was approaching the group with two small children, "is Sarah's brother Nate, and Emily's kids Sam and Susie."

"Sarah's brother! Oh my gosh, I can see the resemblance." Ellie gave Nate a tight hug, which he responded to with a sheepish grin. It had taken a full two years, but Emily had finally convinced him to try and repair his relationship with his sister. This weekend was the first time they had seen each other, and although he was still slightly standoffish, Chuck knew it meant the world to Sarah that Nate had begun to forgive her.

"Hey dudes," Devon said, kneeling down to the children. "Didn't I just see you guys beating the pants off of your Uncle Nate at a game of horseshoes?" The children dissolved into shy giggles.

Chuck surveyed the scene, visibly overwhelmed by the sight of the people surrounding him. "Come on," he said, grabbing Ellie's hand, "lets get you settled in."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

After a long hot shower rinsed the grit from the road off of them, Devon and Ellie walked down to the lodge to join Chuck and Sarah on the patio. Ellie paused before they joined the couple. She couldn't believe she had been given this gift, and she needed a moment to absorb the sight of the two of them. Sarah was leaning back in a wooden Adirondack chair, her long legs stretched out and resting on Chuck's lap, her boots sitting empty beside the chair. Chuck's worn cowboy hat was perched on her head and tilted up slightly, looking as natural as if she had been wearing it her whole life. Chuck was leaning forwards towards her, his face filled with pure joy and love. They were happy. They were safe. There was nothing more Ellie could ask for.

Chuck's face lit up even farther when he saw them approach. He quickly dragged two more chairs over, and soon the foursome was engaged in lively conversation, Chuck insisting that they hear everything from Ellie before he filled her in on his life.

"Frosty! Come meet my family." Chuck yelled out, greeting his friend as a rugged man headed over to their table, a tray of beers and waters in his hand.

At the sound of his name, Ellie struck her head with her palm. "Frosty! We've been trying to figure out how you ended up here! I forgot you had a friend in Wyoming."

Chuck laughed as he introduced his friend to his sister and brother-in-law. "I was counting on that. Frosty, this is Ellie and Devon."

"Awesome!" Frosty said as he shook Devon's hand.

"I guess my reputation precedes me," Devon said with a small smirk on his face.

"Don't worry about it. Everyone called me Dave until this guy showed up," he said, pointing his thumb at Chuck. "Now the entire staff calls me Frosty."

Frosty's wife Naomi, balancing their infant son James on her hip, met them on the patio and Emily, Nate, and the kids soon joined them. Devon and Ellie were finally treated to the story of how Chuck and Sarah ended up outside of Wapiti, Wyoming. They recounted several stories of their disastrous trip north--how the truck had broken down twice in Nevada, how they were stranded in the middle of nowhere and had to sleep in the bed of the truck on their first night, and how Lucky had gotten sick all over the driver's seat. No matter how trying it had been, they had gotten through it together, and Chuck knew they'd be laughing about the drunk tow truck driver who was missing all of his teeth and loved to sing along with Britney Spears until they were both old and grey.

Frosty told a hilarious story about his reaction when Chuck arrived and informed him about why exactly his name was now Charlie Walker, and then amused the group with tales of Chuck's first few awkward attempts at working with the horses. Ellie was amazed to hear that Chuck had learned to ride a horse and that he now regularly lead trail rides up and down the surrounding mountains. As a child, Sarah had ridden horses, so the transition to wrangler was easy for her, but Chuck had never been a natural athlete.

"You _have_ to take us on a trail ride tomorrow. I can't wait to see you in action," Ellie exclaimed.

"Hmm," Chuck said, pausing as he took a swig of beer, "we've already got plans for tomorrow. But I've got a horse with your name on it for Sunday."

Ellie's interest was piqued. "What's on for tomorrow?"

"Actually, we're getting married," Chuck said casually.

Ellie and Devon simultaneously choked on their beers as the rest of the group laughed at their reactions.

"What?!"

Sarah and Chuck exchanged an amused look as he rubbed her legs still resting in his lap.

"Yup, I'm going to make this little cowpoke my wife," Chuck said, leaning forward and teasingly pushed the brim of the hat down further on her face. Sarah gave him a small kick to his ribs in retaliation.

"Oof. I guess I deserved that."

Ellie looked back and forth at the couple, practically bursting with happiness. "_Tell me everything_!"

"Well," Sarah said, taking a drink of water, "at first we didn't really see the need. I mean, I'm not that traditional. I don't feel like I need a piece of paper from the government to bind Chuck and I together. I mean, I think we kind of cross that threshold back in that truck in Nevada." The couple exchanged a secret glance, and Ellie decided not to push that topic any further.

"Plus, there was the small fact that, according to the government, Sarah Irving and Charlie Walker didn't even exist," Chuck said with a small laugh.

"Yes, there was that small little detail," Sarah said, sharing a private smirk with Chuck. "But recently, something happened that convinced us that we should probably shore up our identities with some official government papers. I talked to a safe contact who hacked into the system, and just like that, we had social security cards and tax records."

"What happened to make you want official identifications?" Devon asked as Ellie gave Sarah a suspicious glance.

Chuck cleared his throat and gave his sister a sheepish look. "We needed health insurance."

With that, Ellie suddenly squealed and leapt up, first embracing Sarah, and then turning to her brother and throwing her hands around him.

"What?" Devon was obviously confused by his wife's sudden excitement over health insurance. He looked to Sarah for clarification. She gave him a mischievous smile and took an exaggerated swig of water. It took the doctor a moment, but the clues slowly began to fall into place. The loose blouse, the way Chuck had been gingerly doting on her, the water, and the health insurance.

"Congratulations! That's awesome," Devon said as he followed his wife, giving Chuck and Sarah large hugs. "How far along are you?"

"Four months," Sarah said, blushing slightly from all of the attention. She held her shirt closely to her body, and a slight bump was immediately visible.

"Once we became official U.S. citizens, we thought we might as well go all in and get legally married," Chuck said, looking into Sarah's eyes adoringly.

"Ellie," Sarah said, taking her legs off of Chuck and leaning forward towards the brunette, "will you be my bridesmaid?"

Ellie wrapped her arms around Sarah for what seemed like the eightieth time that day. "Of course!" Her eyes clouded up momentarily. "But I didn't really bring anything appropriate to wear."

"Don't worry," Emily said, "we've got you covered."

"And Devon," Chuck said, addressing his brother-in-law, "I've got a suit with your name on it if you will be my Best Man."

"It'd be my honor, bro," Devon said, shaking Chuck's hand earnestly.

"Is it a girl or a boy? Do you have names picked out?" Ellie was already in aunt mode, thinking of all of the cute clothes she would buy for the baby.

"We don't want to know the sex. I like surprises," Sarah said with a small smile. "We were thinking of Eleanor Emily Irving-Walker for a girl, after two women who made us the people we are today."

Emily and Ellie exchanged a gleeful look.

"I thought we had decided on Walker-Irving," Chuck said, an amused expression on his face. "You know I've always hated the name Irving."

"Too bad, Lefty," she replied teasingly. "You should have told me that two years ago when I took it. If you're stuck with me, you're stuck with my name."

Chuck gave an exaggerated sigh, but couldn't help but smile. They had obviously had this conversation several times before. "I guess I don't mind being stuck with you." They shared another private glance before Chuck went on. "If it's a boy, Maxwell Douglas _Irving-Walker_, after our fathers."

Sarah gave Nate a quick glance, and he gave her a small nod of approval. Despite everything that had happened, Sarah had wanted to honor her father. He deserved the small tribute after all of the pain she had brought him.

xoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxoxoxoxoxo

The next evening, a small crowd gathered at the lodge and ascended the short trail to the top of the ridge behind the ranch. The setting sun reflected off of the orange rocks of the clearing as the ranch's employees stood in a semi circle, shirts freshly ironed, hats in hands.

Chuck stood tall in a dark suit, nervously folding and unfolding his hands. Devon whispered a few encouraging words in his ear as Frosty tried to quiet James, who was trying to squirm out of his dress clothes.

Angela, a waitress at the ranch, began playing the fiddle, and the ceremony started. Susie and Sam emerged from the trail, and Susie dropped flower petals in an uneven pattern as she toddled up the improvised aisle. Naomi, Ellie, and Emily followed behind them carrying bouquets of flowers from the ranch's garden.

Chuck adjusted his tie nervously as he waited for Sarah to appear. His breath was taken away when he saw her emerge from behind the trees on the elbow of her brother moments later. She was wearing a strapless white knee length dress and wildflowers were twisted through her hair. Her eyes were locked on his, and he knew that despite all of the pain that it had brought, that email from Bryce was the best thing that had ever happened to him, because it brought her into his life.

They pledged their love and commitment in front of family and friends, and then Sarah Irving and Charlie Walker were married. He kissed her sweetly as the crowd cheered, and in that moment, his heart was filled with more love than he could have ever imagined.

They made their way into the lodge, which was already filled with all of the guests at the ranch awaiting the reception. The lodge had been decorated with strings of white lights and candles, but Chuck didn't notice anything beyond the way they shown in Sarah's eyes. The two swayed slowly during their first dance, to "America," by Simon and Garfunkel. It might have seemed like a strange selection to their friends, but as Chuck held his wife close, he was taken right back to that night their truck had broken down in Nevada.

They had broken down on side of the road and were waiting for a tow that wouldn't come until dawn. They had stretched their sleeping bags out in the bed of the truck and were overwhelmed by the number of stars shining in the never-ending sky. Sarah was tucked into his arms and Lucky was tucked at his feet. The car radio was fading in and out and the song "America" softly came on. Despite the hardships of the day, despite the fact that they still had motor oil on their hands from the blown gasket, despite the fact that the temperature was dropping quickly and they hadn't seen another car in two hours, there was something magical about the moment. Chuck had kissed the top of her head, and quietly sang along with the first line:

_"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together"_

He could still remember the way she had looked up at him. Nothing else needed to be said. They had no idea what the future held. They had no idea whether they'd be dead within the week. But whatever was in store for them, their fortunes and fates were one. In their minds, they had been wed at that moment. Today was just the public acknowledgment of that fact. As she danced in his arms now, he saw he same thing in her loving gaze as he had that night. He could see tomorrow in her eyes.

As the night went on, everyone danced and celebrated. Chuck and Ellie finally got the chance to do the funky chicken together, and Devon twirled his new sister-in-law around the dance floor. James slept in his mother's arms as she swayed to "Pancho and Lefty." Roger, a craggily old wrangler, took a strong liking to Emily, who was grateful when Chuck cut in to dance with his new cousin to an old Van Morrison song.

After the cake was cut, Sarah took a breather from the dance floor and went outside for some fresh air. Nate and Devon were already outside, sharing a celebratory cigar. Frosty had set up a large bonfire in the fire pit next to the lodge, and the kids were sitting on a hay bale and roasting marshmallows. Ellie and Emily were sitting next to them, their head's dipped intimately together as they conversed animatedly. Sarah was happy they had found one another. Hopefully knowing someone else was in the same boat would help each woman deal with the missing pieces in their lives.

As Sarah stood in the doorway looking out at the scene, Chuck came up behind her and threaded his arm around her waist. She reached her arm around his waist and he kissed the top of her head. Neither said anything, but simply looked at the people in front of them-- their family.

They were home.


End file.
